Among the Sands of Oblivion, I Know You
by Disillusioned-Insomniac
Summary: AU. Emmeria. The renown port city made of crystal, alabaster and gold. A city now in flames. When the kingdom is invaded by the Eastern empire of Azaran, and its ruthless prince Peter, Stiles, a mere palace slave is left with only one choice; to bow his head to his new master, or let his beloved to his fate. When Peter discovers the secret Stiles has though, what will he do?
1. Chapter 1

**Hello guys! This is a Steter Fanfiction coz I just looove this pairing! I randomly got the idea when I was reading this YAOI called Black Sun, which really influenced the story when I first started thinking of the plot almost a year ago, yet it was only a reference so, for everyone out there who has read it, trust me the two stories are similar but very veeery different XD! Characters might be OOC occasionally, but AU does that.**

 **WARNING: This story contains many triggers such as slash, non-con, dub-con, mentions of rape, graphic sexual/violence descriptions, knotting, m-preg, Omega-verse, slavery, underage etc.**

 **RATING: M**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own any Teen Wolf characters.**

 **I really hope you lot like this story, even a bit, and please feel free to review or follow/fav this story! ^_^**

 **On with the chapter then!**

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

Emmeria. The renounced port city made of crystal, alabaster, and gold. The center of trade in the West, wealthy and majestic, with streets paved in chalk and sea shells, blazed white in the sun. A massive white marble wall surrounded the city, and on the walls stood statues made of lapis, malachite, and jasper. Countless gilded gates allowed entrance to the city; a city more ornamental than defensive. A city, where war was a foreign concept. A city, now in flames.

††††

(Stiles' POV)

Panicked servants ran along the corridors of the palace of Emmeria, as the warriors of Azaran smashed down the doors after breaking the siege around the once glorious city.

"They're almost in! Run!" a servant shouted at me as he ran by, crazed with terror. I dashed towards the opposite direction from where the other servant had run to, in search of my master. I had to find him before the barbarians from Azaran entered the palace! Before their bloodthirsty prince breached the gates…

I found Jackson in his quarters, putting on his armor.

"Master, what are you doing?! The warriors of Azaran have almost entered the palace! It is but a matter of time before the gates are breached. If they find you, master, a member of the royal family, they will slaughter you on the spot!"

Jackson turned around and gazed at me with his warm, hazel eyes. A kind smile graced his face, a smile which turned my heart into pieces.

"Don't call me master, Stiles. We are alone, there is no need for etiquette. And since I have no kingdom, I am no longer a prince."

My eyes widened upon hearing his words.

"Ma-Jackson, you cannot mean this! Those barbarians are but mere pawns of that cruel Easterner prince, that _Peter!_ The citizens of Emmeria will never bow to him! It is _you_ they love!"

Jackson came close to me and patted my head, the same way he had been doing since the day he first saw me amongst the miserable slaves in the slave markets of Emmeria. Out of childish whim, he had insisted on buying me, so his mother, her Majesty, eventually gave in and bought me for the little prince's personal use. But, for Jackson, I am not just one of his slaves… at least that is the impression I get from him. And he does not wish to live and see me suffer, like everyone else, at the hands of Peter. If he were to die, I know better than anyone he would rather fall in battle, fighting against the scums who dared attack his kingdom.

Jackson made to leave, but I grabbed his arm and gazed at him pleadingly.

"Please, Jackson! Don't go out there! You _must_ escape as it has been planned! His Majesty the King and Queen are waiting for you!"

"Go tell them to leave without me. I have made my decision. And you shall go with them."

"No! I am not leaving you! Wherever you go, I go. You are my master, Jackson."

"For me, Stiles, you are the little brother I never had. I do not wish to see you suffer. Farewell."

And with those parting words, Jackson grabbed his sword and left the room.

I could feel the icy hands of panic clawing onto my very soul. I was no warrior. If I were to follow Jackson, I would be nothing but a burden, a liability. But, even though I already knew that, I could not stop myself from following him; even if it would cost me my life. He saw me as a brother, but to me he was so much more… What worth is there in a life without him…?

Frustration has always been one of the triggers… I felt a tingling on the top of my head and in my lower back and knew _they_ were about to come out. I forced myself to breathe and calm down until I was sure the secret I have been keeping since I was a child would stay exactly that… a secret. No one needs to know what a disgusting freak of nature I am… especially not Jackson.

Without further delay, I dashed towards the gates of the palace. I could hear the blows of the battering ram against the huge, marble gates echoing in the empty halls as I ran, like a twisted imitation of a heartbeat. The whole palace seemed to tremble with every blow, and my heart seemed to sink more in my chest.

When I finally reached the entrance hall, my eyes spotted Jackson near the gates, and I let out a sigh of relief. But, my relief was short-lived. As if in slow motion, I saw the gates crack with a deafening sound. I saw Jackson shouting orders to his men pointing at the gate. Another blow, and the gates came down with a deafening sound. Like a crimson sea, the warriors of Azaran gushed inside the palace, with blood-stained scimitars and battle cries.

No matter how hard the palace guards tried, they failed to hold against their fury. They began to fall back and my eyes lost Jackson. I tried to push my way through to him, but the guards were falling back disorderly, and I drifted to the opposite direction. I began screaming his name at the top of my lungs.

"Jackson! JACKSON!"

But it could not be heard over this turmoil. Then, I saw _him_. I saw Peter.

A huge man mounting a black stallion, butchering what was left of Emmeria's defenders, a deadly glint in his eyes and a devilish grin on his lips as he did so. He possessed a wild beauty, which made me gaze at him dumbfounded. He was truly… My _other_ self reacted instantly to that predator. I felt the tingling sensations on my head and my ears popped out before I could stop them, a whine escaping my throat. What was happening to me?!

I covered my ears quickly and fought to regain control, yet my eyes never left the man. His armor was crimson and golden, stained by the blood of his victims. His gaze was fixed on something and my eyes followed it. With horror, I realized he was looking at Jackson. My Master's armor was also bloody, but I could not tell whether the blood was his, or his enemies'.

Peter dismounted, and I barely held back the urge to run and lie at that man's feet and present my neck in submission. What!? Did I just think of that? _What_ was this madness?

He moved towards Jackson and all weird thoughts flew from my mind. His scimitar shone red in the light of the setting sun that passed through the remnants of what once stood a gate. Next thing I knew, the swords of the two princes were clashing against each other, pulled in a deadly dance, with no one backing down.

Once again, I attempted to make way through the panicked guards, to no avail. Those people did not even know what they were doing any more. The only thing they knew was the need to escape with their lives. However, the Azaran warriors had a different opinion. They started chasing down those who ran, cutting them down like animals, with no remorse.

I could see the invaders approaching, but I did not stop my tries to reach Jackson. However, I could not go against the flow of crazed Emmerian guards as they were running for their lives. Suddenly, I was pushed forcefully out of the way and hit on the wall. My head span as I tried to stand up and fell again. It was a nasty hit. My vision blurred and I could hear a buzzing in my ears. When darkness crept into the corners of my eyes, I knew I would faint. Again, I had showed how worthless a servant I was. I had failed to protect my master, hell, I had even failed to die next to him. Hopefully I would be killed before I had come to my senses…

Next thing I knew, a kick landed on my stomach and all the air in my lungs was pushed out painfully. My head hurt like it was being hammered and my vision was blurry. I blinked to clear it and I tried to move my hands but in vain. Someone had tied them behind my back. Painstakingly, I turned my head and saw that around me there were countless other palace guards in the same position, if not worse, as me. Some were unconscious, but most of them were too tired or injured to care about their situation.

The events that had occurred before I passed out came rushing back to me. Panicked, my eyes searched for Jackson, but he was not among the captives. My head felt like spinning. I tried to pull myself up, but I drew the attention of an Azari.

Rough hands grabbed my hair and strained my head back in an unnatural angle. My neck creaked and I winced in pain.

The soldier said something to his comrades in the tongue of Azaran and they laughed, before he turned to me.

"Rise and shine, little servant. How do they call you?"

I did not answer and my eyes refused to meet the barbarian's face, an attitude which earned me a strong slap. I tasted blood and I glared at the warrior. The tingling in my gums alerted me to the small fangs that threatened to pop out so I held my mouth shut. No matter how much it hurt, I did not show my pain to these savages.

"I asked you a question, slave! Answer it!"

I spat the man on the face causing the rest of them to burst into laughter. The offended warrior paled with rage and humiliation.

He threw me on the floor completely and began kicking me frantically. His comrades made no move to stop him, but instead they kept on laughing at him, something that enraged the man even more. I couldn't breathe. A horrible crack echoed and I finally screamed in pain.

††††

(Peter's POV)

Inspecting the aftermath of a battle is the most boring task in the world. Sure, fighting and _killing_ the enemy brings me a pleasure that has no equal. Nothing can compare to the smell of blood and the feeling of flesh being ripped against my sword… _or my fangs_. That is the only thing I live for. Well that, and the spoils that come _after_ the battle is won.

Azaran is a cruel kingdom, even by my standards. And in that kingdom, I am known as the cruelest man. There is a reason for that, of course. I have earned the name _Bloodthirsty Prince_ for I annihilate any army and every kingdom I am up against.

By orders of my father, King Gerard, I have spent the last three years conquering all kingdoms, cities and countries around Azaran. He has decided to turn our kingdom into an empire, you see. The title _King_ no longer satisfies him. _Emperor_ is much more imposing and prestigious. Well, it does have a certain ring to it, but I am a man of war, not politics. And that must be the reason my _dear_ father has not taken my head yet. For, if he had to choose between his throne and his bastard son, he would choose the first. But, I don't mind. Since I would do just the same.

Amongst the ones we had managed to capture alive, I couldn't find anyone interesting enough to claim as spoil. I was fed up with women who would give themselves to me only because they were frightened to death, no matter how pretty they might have been. During the last six battles, no one had caught my eye. Instead, I allowed my men to have all the fun. They had to be satisfied in more ways than money, and what better way than to use what we had claimed from the enemy.

Yet, I thought Emmeria, of all places, would have better quality slaves and servants, judging from the way father would not stop ranting about it. I guess I was wrong. In the end, Emmeria had only beautiful buildings and elderly scholars. They hadn't even put much of a fight. Hell, they didn't even know how to swing their swords properly! Today's battle was a joke.

"What do you have to say now, bitch?! Next time know your place you little fuck-"

"What is the meaning of this?"

The warrior I spoke to fell on his knees once he saw me, as did all the others present. Even though he had his head down, I could see his face was red and he was breathing hard.

"This slave dared spit on my face, your Highness! I was merely teaching him a lesson."

I raised my hand and gave the warrior a punch that had him on the ground spitting out teeth.

"If a mere slave manages to spit on you then you have no place in my army."

The man crawled in front of me and grabbed my boots desperate, a look of complete horror in his eyes.

"Please, your Highness! I was caught off guar-"

The man never got to finish his sentence. My sword had already found its way into his mouth. I kicked the body from my feet, unperturbed and turned to the others.

"You do realize these slaves are meant to be sold at brothels and slave markets in Azaran and the conquered provinces to fund our army, do you not?" I asked amused to see the look of utter shock on my men's faces. No one dared answer.

"I take it you do. Then, I will say it for the last time. You can have fun with whomever you like, but you are not allowed to injure or scar them in any way. The price of scarred stock drops and our army loses money. Is that clear enough for you or should I elaborate further?" I said pointing at the mauled body with my bloodstained sword.

"Yes, your Highness!" the men replied scared shitless and quickly bowed their heads. I nodded and walked towards the slave who hadn't moved an inch from where he lay. I grabbed his chin and pulled his face up.

Angry purple eyes met mine as the boy shot a resigned glare at me. Ruffled brown hair framed a pale face with smooth cheekbones and a slightly upturned nose that was bleeding. A huge bruise marred the boy's pale cheek but his beauty could not be hidden that easily. Plus, his scent was… was pulling me…

For a moment, I thought he resembled someone, but I could not recall who. Those purple eyes, though, did not feel foreign to me.

I smirked and stood up.

"This one is mine. Take him to my new chambers."

"Yes, your Highness!"

At last, something that could spark my interest.

††††

(Stiles' POV)

Even though I didn't know the language of Azaran, I could understand parts of the conversation. I don't know how I did it, but it felt as if I had heard it before. But I hated every word I understood. This _prince_ was a monster.

Once Peter left, his men untied my ropes and, since I couldn't walk, they dragged me to his quarters. To my horror and anger, he had chosen to occupy Jackson's room. The warriors tied me on the bed's legs, all the while spatting tasteless and lewd jokes in broken Emmerian, about what the prince would do to me.

When they left me alone, I started pulling at the ropes, but with no success. I am not strong, I have never been. My lean figure and feminine face have always caused me trouble and shame. Not few were the times when I was molested by men as a kid, because they thought I was a girl. Sometimes, they wouldn't stop even when they realized I was a boy. Thankfully just touching would satisfy them, so I grew used to bearing with it. I am a slave after all; I was taught to obey.

I made to move my body a bit, but the pain from my broken ribs made me whimper. I remained as still as I could and waited for the pain to subside. My cheek was swollen and hot from the slap of that warrior.

The fatigue and beating seemed to have taken their toll on me. My eyelids grew heavy and before I knew it, I fell asleep.

I woke up abruptly and my eyes shot open frightened, my heart thundering in my chest. I was lying on the bed, not tied up like before. Slowly, I tried to sit up but a piercing pain on my side had me fall back on the pillow gasping.

"You're awake." a smooth voice came and I nearly had a heart attack. Quickly, I turned my head to the side and saw the prince of Azaran staring at me with a smirk. My eyes lit with anger, but I swallowed any comments that came to mind and refused to answer.

He looked at me amused and stood up from where he sat to come near the bed. I flinched and tried to distance myself from him but the pain kept me where I was. The easterner sat on the bed next to me and gazed at me skeptically.

"How do they call you?"

His heavy accent was similar to the warrior that had beat me, but it wasn't as sharp. He spoke more fluently the language of Emmeria. The thought not to reply passed through my mind, but I didn't think my body could take any more beating today.

"…Stiles."

I saw the man frown displeased and I hurried to correct myself, out of reflex.

"Stiles, sire."

He appeared pleased.

"That's more like it."

Under this tanned-skinned prince's intense gaze, I couldn't help but lower my eyes submissively. I mentally slapped myself. Nice moment for my slave instincts to kick in.

"Your eyes." the prince kept questioning me. "Did your parents have the same?"

"I know not…sire. I never knew them."

"Is that so." he paused for a brief moment.

I took the opportunity now that he was silent, to ask the question the answer to which I feared the most.

"Is… is my master…is Prince Jackson dead…sire?"

The prince looked at me and I saw amusement light up in his ember eyes.

"What if I said yes?"

I did not expect a different answer. I already knew he was dead. It shouldn't come as a shock. Then why…why do I feel as if there is a hole in my chest…? My hands began to tremble, something that did not escape the gaze of the prince of Azaran.

"Hey-"

Before his stretched hand had reached me, I quickly stretched mine and pulled a dagger he had on him. I brought it on my throat and I swear I would have slashed it open without batting an eye, if it wasn't for that prince's quick reflexes.

He grabbed my hand before I had but scratched my skin, squeezed it and made me drop the dagger. He held me on the bed, as I tried to free myself, every move causing my broken ribs to send waves of pain throughout my body.

"What the hell are you doing?!" his voice came normal, but something primal shone in his eyes that immediately put an end to my struggling. He raised a hand and traced the bloody scratch on my neck. "It's shallow. It won't leave a scar."

I did not reply. Once he was sure I wouldn't pull an act like that again, he released my hands and I was surprised to see bruises starting to form on my wrists.

"You have added to my injuries… _sire_." I mocked, hoping he would grow fed up with me and kill me already. I had to follow Jackson. There was no reason for me to linger in a world without him.

"If you are trying to make me snap and kill you, you can stop."

He had seen right through me… apparently he was not a mere brute.

"Your _master_ " he mocked in return "is still breathing. For now at least."

My head shot up and my eyes went wide with hope for a brief second.

"He is alive? But I saw you two fight and I thought…"

The man shot me an inquisitive look.

"I fought him at the entrance of the palace. What were _you_ doing there? Most servants and slaves were captured as they attempted to escape."

Suddenly I saw his eyes lit up with realization. His smile became predatory.

"…You are _in love_ with him."

I felt my face blush furiously and I looked away, without replying.

The prince grabbed my chin and forced me to look at him. He had a smug smile stuck on his face as he came closer to me.

"You love him so much you wanted to die next to him in battle, didn't you. How touching." He mocked.

I saw the amusement in his eyes. He was laughing at me. Anger swelled in me and forgot all etiquette.

"My master is too proud a man to surrender. It was my duty to die beside his highness."

"Too bad he got capture instead, huh? No worries, he is gonna be executed tomorrow."

Prince Peter gazed at me questionably, as if he waited for me to say something. When I did not speak, he broke the silence.

"I thought you would beg me to spare his life."

My eyes gazed at him emptily, my poker face back in place.

"I am but a mere slave, I could not hope to change the decision of a prince."

He gave me an unreadable look as he rose on his feet. He walked away from the bed and sat on the chair of gold and ivory, where I had seen Jackson sit countless times. This conceited prince was not supposed to sit where Jackson had sat.

"I never said my decision was final."

††††

(Peter's POV)

This one was a peculiar servant. He looked young; couldn't be more than sixteen years old. His face was vacant of emotion, except from when his precious _master_ was mentioned. I wanted to invoke some sort of strong reaction from him, make him show more of his expressions. Threatening his life would not work. Hell, this kid was ready to take his own life just because he thought his prince was dead. Such loyalty is…so foreign to me.

The boy gazed at me with those beautiful eyes that gave me the feeling I had seen them before and spoke softly, almost whispering, his voice trembling slightly with emotion.

"I-If your decision is not final, sire, then, please, I will do anything…just…spare my master…"

I smirked at his words. My eyes traveled from his eyes to his finely chiseled cheekbones, to the thin lips he kept biting every time he moved to ground himself from the pain.

"Come here." I ordered, and saw the boy struggle to sit up. He really intended to do anything, didn't he? After a couple of minutes he managed to cover the distance between us. I noticed small droplets of sweat on his forehead. He was in pain but he didn't whine about it. Admirable… for a slave.

"Kneel." I said and again he did as told without even a slight change in his expression.

I ran my hands through his hazel hair, relishing at the silkiness. What was this kid's deal? How could a male's hair be so smooth? I gripped it roughly, feeling thrilled by something unrelated to bloodshed for the first time in a while.

"Suck me."

His eyes shot up to me, wide in realisation. So he wasn't as innocent as he looked. But of course… as if the prince of Emmeria would let a beautiful servant like this one, with such an obvious crush on him, go.

"P-please, sire, a-anything but this!" he pleaded me but I yanked his hair roughly and shoved his face in my crotch.

"You offered to do anything to save that prince of yours. Did you expect to bring me dinner and prepare my bath? I have plenty of slaves to do that. Your job is to satisfy me."

I smiled viciously at the boy's petrified look. He was starting to show emotion.

Stiles' fingers were trembling as he found the buttons of my pants and began undoing them, his face blank again. He hesitantly touched my cock and swallowed nervously as he pulled it out of its confinement.

I stared at his face intensely. True, in all my twenty five years, I had seen and taken countless beautiful women, but I had never encountered such beauty. Flawless pale skin, hair smoother than silk, long eyelashes framing grey-blue eyes with purple tints, a feline nose over thin rosy lips… what a pity it belonged to a man. Such perfection. It made me wanna sully it.

I felt my shaft pulsate and my grip on Stiles' hair became tighter.

He began moving his hand up and down slowly. Soon after, I saw him stick out his tongue and give a small lick at the tip. I snorted amused.

"This is terrible. You'll never make me cum this way."

He let go of my cock and I was surprised to see a flash of anger in his eyes. It lasted but a mere moment, making me doubt I had even seen it.

"Forgive my inexperience, sire. I have never practiced before."

I smirked teasingly.

"And here I thought you would have practiced plenty on your beloved master."

A light pink colored Stiles' cheeks and he refused to meet my eyes.

"He would never make me commit such a vile act. My master is noble without equal."

For some reason, his words angered me quite a bit. If his _master_ was all he would talk about, he might as well put his mouth to better use.

I yanked his hair, drawing a small cry from him. With a quick move, I shoved my cock into his mouth. His eyes widened and he tried by reflex to pull away, but my grip kept him in place.

"Then, I'm the first to fuck this little mouth of yours." I whispered pissed and pushed myself even further inside his hot wet cavern.

Stiles choked and his eyes filled with tears.

"Mmmf" he whimpered but stopped resisting. He submitted and let me do whatever I wished with him.

"Come on, use your tongue more." I heard myself spatting mercilessly as I thrust into his mouth, and Stiles obeyed, his beautiful eyes shut. My hand, still entangled in his hair, bobbed his head up and down on my length which by now was rock hard.

The view of the boy going down on me was a huge turn on. I felt as if I could cum just by watching those crimson lips wrapped around my cock. But that wasn't the best part.

All those little sounds and whimpers that Stiles made went straight to my shaft, making it even harder. The moment those teary eyes cracked open and his defying glare met my lusty gaze, I felt myself release inside that amazing heat growling deep in my chest.

I emptied my load in Stiles' mouth, shooting it at the back of his throat, but I didn't let him pull away, even when he started to choke.

"Swallow it." I ordered and Stiles did as told, eyes shut from the humiliation.

When I finally let go of his hair, the boy collapsed on the floor exhausted, breathing hard. I stood up from where I sat and knelt in front of him. Once again, I grabbed his chin and forced him to look at me.

"From this day forth, you belong to me, Stiles."

I wiped away the trail of my seed from the corner of his mouth with my thumb. Stiles was trembling and his hand was on his side. Maybe that was a bit too intense for his injured body.

I scooped him up and took him to the bed. I couldn't not notice how light and frail his body was. Every move made him wince slightly so I lay him slowly on it. He looked as if he would pass out any second now, so I turned to leave. He had served his purpose for now.

"D-Did I…ngh…satisfy you…sire?" he managed to utter.

That took me by surprise and I turned my head to look at him.

"You did. Rest assured. I will uphold my part of the deal."

Upon hearing my words, Stiles' eyes closed and he stilled.

"Pfft. What a weird slave." I chuckled to myself as I left the room. Another slave of mine was right outside, so I turned to her and she quickly dropped her gaze on the floor.

"Call a healer to tend to the boy. And bring him a change of clothes."

"As you command, your Highness."

I walked away hastening towards where the _privileged_ captives were held. It was time to take a proper look at the guy that kid loves so much.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi guys! First of all, a BIG THANK YOU to all those who followed this story! It really means a lot to me since this is my first fanfiction ever, so any comments or suggestions are welcome. Feel free to let me know what you guys think about the plot so far, coz reviews make my day! XD**

 **Also, as you probably must have noticed, I have changed a bit the ages and relationships of the characters, like e.g. Peter is younger than in the series, Gerard is his dad, Stiles is initially in love with Jackson, etc. It might seem kinda weird to some, but it just came to me as I wrote and it served the plot well so, yeah... More changes like those will probably come so be prepared. XD**

 **WARNING: This story contains many triggers such as slash, non-con, dub-con, mentions of rape, graphic sexual/violence descriptions, knotting, m-preg, Omega-verse, slavery, underage etc.**

 **RATING: M**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own any Teen Wolf characters.**

 **Enjoy!^^**

 **Chapter 2**

(Jackson's POV)

The sting from the wound in my shoulder was what brought my consciousness back from the darkness. My first thought was that I was still alive, and my second was regret for being so. I should have died in battle. Now, my home and people had fallen into the hands of Azaran, something I never wished to be alive and witness.

A creak dragged my thoughts out of my self-pity and I instinctively looked up. There was not enough light in the cell so I could not make out the face of my visitor. But that huge body could belong only to one person.

"You…" I spat glaring at the prince of Azaran, as I fought to stand on my feet, despite the pain from my wound. I did not wish to appear weak in front of this man.

Prince Peter stepped closer and the light of the torch finally revealed his face. The smug smirk he wore all but fuelled my anger.

"You are alive and kicking, _your Highness_ , good. See, you fainted after I scratched you a bit and you spoiled all the fun. Never thought you'd be so _weak._ "

I glared at him ashamed at his words. But I could not counter them. I lost to him quite embarrassingly. His raw strength had been almost… _animalistic_.

"What do you intend to do with me? I suppose you let me live for a reason." I said, keeping my tone indifferent and calm.

"You're right. I kept you alive only to have you executed in public tomorrow. That is my policy after I conquer a land. Once I kill the royal family in front of their people, they usually realize they have a new ruler."

"I am not afraid of you."

The easterner prince chuckled amused, but his emerald eyes shone dark with anger.

"You should be, _Master Jackson._ "

"…what did you just say?" I whispered shaken. There was only one person who called me that…

"My initial plan was indeed to execute you tomorrow, but a beautiful servant managed to convince me otherwise."

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?!" I yelled, fear and panic clawing at my stomach.

The smirk never left Peter's lips as he answered me.

"He's my slave now. He belongs to _me_."

" _If you dare hurt him I swear-_ "

"You swear what? What could you possible do from here?!" Peter laughed mockingly before continuing. "You know, he begged me to spare your life. He was so desperate to please me and make sure I kept my promise to him."

I almost feared the answer I would get to my next question.

" _What did you make him do…_?"

"Let's just say I put that pretty little mouth of his to good use."

My eyes widened in realization. This savage had forced Stiles to…

I grabbed the bars of my cell and shot Peter a deadly glare.

"YOU SCUM! YOU ARE A COWARD!" I yelled, letting wrath blind me. But Peter just gave me an amused look. He was _laughing_ at me.

"Easy there, _prince_. You're all bark and no bite. I fail to see the reason that slave boy of yours loves you so."

"What do you plan to do with him?" I managed to ask, my jaw clenched as I tried to regain my composure.

Peter gave me a taunting smirk; it was clear he didn't take me seriously.

"He is quite promising, I must say. I'll be sure to _train_ him properly."

He came closer to the bars and I saw his eyes gleaming predatorily under the light of the torches. "And when I'm bored with him, I will sell him to a brothel in some godforsaken part of my empire, and you will never lay eyes upon him again."

I clenched my teeth at his words; oh, how I wished I could just _kill_ this man!

"I shall end you before that. I promise you." was all I managed to utter, my voice barely above a whisper. I had never hated anyone in my life, until this moment. Now I knew what hating someone felt like.

The tanned-skinned man chuckled, but his eyes were serious.

"I really want to see you try. When that time comes, I will make sure I finish the job." he said and turned to leave.

When I was left alone again, I felt my legs subside under me. My chest felt tight at the very thought of what that barbarian had forced Stiles to do.

I don't deceive myself. I have always been aware of the way Stiles looked at me… his love for me was different from mine. I would have been blind not to realise. But, even if I would never be able to return his feelings, I still held him dear. Surely, the tightness in my chest is because Stiles was mistreated like that. This anger I feel, bordering to rage is for his sake…

My grip on the bars tightened and I raised my eyes at the direction the easterner prince had disappeared to. All I can feel is a desire to rip him to pieces…

††††

(Stiles' POV)

Slowly, traces of consciousness crawled back inside my head. My eyelids felt too heavy, so I did not even try to open them. All I wanted was to sleep. Surely, it wasn't even dawn yet. I still had a few hours before Jackson called for me…

Suddenly, memories of the dreadful events that had taken place washed over me. My eyes shot open and I struggled to sit up. My ribs protested at my sudden movement by granting me a sharp pain which made me wince lightly. I instinctively brought my hand to my side, only to find out that my shirt was missing and my torso was wrapped in bandages. A golden ring bracelet hanging loosely from my wrist caught my attention. I pulled my other hand under the covers and saw that the bracelet had a twin. So this was the mark of slavery in Azaran. Quite tasteless…

I slowly traced the bandages which were tight enough as to limit my movements, but not painfully so. Breathing hurt quite a lot, so I instinctively tried to draw as shallow breaths as possible.

I looked around me and realized I was still in Jackson's, well, now Peter's, chambers. Thankfully he was nowhere to be seen and a relived sigh escaped me. Hesitantly, I slid to the side of the bed and attempted to stand up. Clinks drew my attention to my ankles, only to see identical bracelets there as well. Those were linked by a thin golden chain, making sure a small step was all I could take at a time.

Walking, proved to be much greater a challenge I soon found out, as I made my way towards the door, and not because of the chain restricting me. When I finally reached it, I turned the knob, only to find a woman standing outside. She had the same linked bracelets on her feet as me.

When she heard the door open, her black eyes instantly flew to me and she began speaking quickly in a low voice, as she pushed me back inside before she entered after me and shut the door behind her. I looked at her as she took my hand in hers and led me to sit on the bed, placing whatever she was holding next to me. She started talking again pointing at the clothes, and then she pulled a small vial from her pocket.

After spreading its contents on her palm, the woman made to touch my face, but I pulled away unconsciously. Her eyes gave me a sad look and she spoke again. Even though she didn't know it, I could understand some words of what she said to me. Among other things, she kept repeating "don't be afraid", as she pointed at my face. Hesitantly, I nodded and let her put whatever ointment that was on my cheek. Unexpectedly, her touch was really soft, almost tender on my skin. I stared at her and her lips parted in a smile, but I couldn't return it.

When she was done, the woman pointed at the clothes and then me and left the room. I took the clothes in my hands slowly and took a look at them. They were plain clothes, obviously meant for servants and slaves, but they were different from what I had been used to wearing.

The servant clothes in Emmeria consist of simple long-sleeved shirts and long pants, since the cold climate of the country deems warm clothes necessary, even for mere slaves. However, the slave clothes of Azaran that I now held, were similar to what the old woman had been wearing; a thin sleeveless shirt which left one shoulder bare and pants that reached mid-calf, exposing the skin to the cold.

I considered putting on just the shirt and keeping my own pants, but one more look at its condition made me change my mind. I let out another sigh and resigned into putting the new clothes on.

When I was finally done, I sat on the bed with my back against the cushions and tried to find a position in which my sides would not hurt as if a sword was piercing me. Soon, I felt myself drift off, and instinctively I curled up to myself as far as my condition allowed me. My thoughts turned to Jackson and my grip on the covers tightened slightly. My stomach hurt from the stress.

 _What has become of him?_

 _Did that prince keep his promise?_

 _I want to see him…_

Before I knew it, I had fallen asleep with image of Jackson's smile fading from my mind.

††††

(Peter's POV)

" _What a ridiculous man!"_ was all I could think after meeting with the so called prince of Emmeria. Apart from being a terrible swordsman, he was a mere weakling! Even his threats held no ground. Why the hell was that slave boy admiring him so?! I should have never promised to spare his life.

I reached my chambers and saw the slave I had left to care for the boy outside the door. The moment she saw me, her eyes fell to the ground and she bowed her head, as a slave should.

"Your Highness." she called respectfully, her gaze never leaving the floor. This slave, had been the one to raise me. If I was capable of feeling anything remotely close to affection, it would have been directed towards this woman. But I am not.

"What of the boy, Melissa?" I asked her.

"He awakened, your Highness, but his is in pain, though he does not complain. It shows on his face when he walks and his breaths are short."

"I see. Has the physician tended to him?

"Indeed he has, your Highness. He said it was a miracle no fractured bones pierced his lungs or any other organs. He must refrain from any strenuous physical exercise for at least a month, and he needs plenty of rest."

So, I really _had_ pushed him quite far. He has a poker face so I couldn't tell he was _that_ hurt.

"Is that so." I only said. I made to enter the room but Melissa's words stopped me.

"Your Highness, forgive me for burdening you with my trivial thoughts, but…" she paused and I turned my head to her impatiently.

"What is it Melissa?"

"The boy reminds me of someone…"

I turned completely her way, my eyes gazing at her intently.

"You've seen him before?"

Melissa dared raise her eyes to me before she spoke.

"No, my prince, but, I have seen someone with the exact same features as him… and your Highness has seen that person, too."

I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to think, to remember. But all I could get was the faint feeling of familiarity.

"Who do you speak of, Melissa?" I asked, annoyed with the slave.

"…The former Queen of Azaran, my prince. The one his Majesty you father executed after seizing the throne."

Suddenly, images I had long buried in my memory came crashing back. I recalled the ethereal queen with the long silver hair and the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen, when I first and last saw her on the day of her execution. She had been rumored to be a forest creature, forcibly taken as a wife by the previous King of Azaran, the one my father had dethroned.

I was but ten at the time, and that had been my first battle, my first kill. I hadn't taken part in the raids or fights, but my father had ordered me to kill the captives. I cannot even remember how many throats I slit that day. I didn't care; as long as my father was proud of me. How naïve I was.

The king and queen had been captured as they were trying to flee the palace. I heard the king was killed on the spot, but the queen made excellent sport for all the soldiers present. After my father's men had their fun with her, they threw her in a cell, and the next day, my father executed her himself, after raping her in front of everyone gathered, in front of me. I had seen my father, or other soldiers do that many times before, but, I recall I had felt pity for such a rare beauty to be thus hurt.

However… their child, the heir, was never found. Since he was but a toddler, and much of the palace had been set on fire, burning a lot of bodies along, the child was presumed dead.

"It cannot be." I said decisively. "What you speak of happened fifteen years ago. The child was barely old enough to walk, he could not have survived."

"Indeed, my prince. It must be a coincidence. Surely the former queen was not the only person with such traits. Forest folk have mated with Azari many times in the past. The boy's eyes are the only thing similar to hers."

"Indeed, Melissa." I said, my mind confused by all those memories I had never cared enough to recall. "You can go now, I won't be needing you any more today."

"Thank you, your Highness. I have prepared your bath for you." The dark haired slave said and bowed her head before leaving.

I entered the chambers, my eyes instantly falling on the sleeping figure on the bed. I walked closer and I saw the boy's face.

He was having a dream; no, a nightmare. He kept gripping the cushion, as his eyes moved rapidly beneath his eyelids, face twisted into a pained expression.

I stretched my hand and touched his shoulder, planning to wake him up. However, the moment I touched him, his eyes shot open and a cry left his lips.

"OMMY!"

I froze. I grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and forced him to look at me.

" _What did you just say?!"_

His eyes focused on me, still hazed from the nightmare. He didn't answer so I shook him anger rising on my voice.

" _How do you know that word? Answer me!"_

He finally managed to gather his thoughts enough to form words.

"What word, sire?"

My grip tightened and his breath came out sharp. I let my hands drop but my stare still burned holes through him.

"You screamed _ommy_ as you woke up. That is the word for _mother_ in my language. How did _you_ know about it?"

"I…I know not, sire."

My jaw clenched as I asked the question the answer to which I knew I wouldn't like.

"How old are you, Stiles?"

"I… I know not, sire."

"…What?"

"I was told I was purchased by her majesty the Queen from the slave market fifteen years ago, sire."

Of course… it had to be fifteen fucking years ago.

"Who gave you your name? Your parents?"

"No, sire, Master Jackson did."

I stood up and gave Stiles a mocking look. Of course, his favorite master _had_ to enter the conversation.

"Why, he didn't like yours so he changed it?"

"No, sire, I never told him my name."

"Why?"

"Because I could not speak Emmerian. Or any other language, that is. I was thought to be mute, but I began speaking after half a year or so."

Hearing his explanations made me more confused. I could not be sure whether he really was that missing heir. This boy didn't even know his age!

"So, what is your real name?"

"I have forgotten, sire."

"Tsk." I should have expected that.

But, he knew that word he had screamed, even if he wouldn't admit it to me.

"Your master is dead." I said in my language and I heard an uptick in Stiles' heartbeat, even though his face didn't betray anything.

I grabbed his chin and brought my face close to his, my eyes serious as I glared daggers at him.

"You understood something just now. You called out for your mother in my tongue. You are Azari, boy."

He grabbed my hand and tried to make me let go of his chin, but he was too weak. His face did not betray any of his emotions as he spoke.

"Is he truly dead?"

I stared at him questionably. If I said yes even as a joke, he might try something stupid again.

"I was just testing you, idiot."

A shadow of relief passed through his eyes, before he continued.

"I didn't even know I could understand your language until the moment I heard your warriors speak it. But I manage to catch only some words. Sire."

As much as I don't want to admit it, there is a chance this mere slave boy is the legitimate heir to the throne my own father sits upon. But, I still cannot be sure. Azaran has always been a vast country, there could be others with such eyes. My people have been mating with shape-shifters and forest folk since the country was created. I myself am a product of such a union. So, no use to beat myself about it right now.

I stood up and walked to the chests that contained my clothes and things, carried by my slaves and servants across the nations I conquered these past three years. A fresh set of clothes was set on top of one of them, surely by Melissa, embroidered with the crest of my kingdom; a blazing sun marred by red claw-marks. But, still being filthy and bloody from the fight, I was grateful to Melissa that she had prepared the bath for me, even without me ordering her to.

I started taking my clothes off, piece by bloody piece until I was stark naked, stretching away the fatigue from my muscles. I looked at the slave boy from the corner of my eye, and I smirked as I saw him staring intensely at the floor.

"I saw your precious master just a few hours ago." I said, sure of the reaction I'd get. Stiles' eyes widened and his eyes raised at me, but the only sign of his embarrassment at my nakedness on his poker face was a slight blush on his cheeks, before he averted his eyes back to the floor.

"Is master…injured, sire?"

"What do you think? It was me he fought with."

His hands griped the covers a bit tighter before he spoke, his face never betraying his thoughts.

"Is it serious?"

"I wouldn't say so. But if the wound festers, he could die."

A slight momentary frown gave his panic away. His eyes never leaving the floor, he did what I really enjoyed to see him do; he begged.

"Please, sire, have a healer tend to my master! I-"

"You'll do anything, I know." I finished his sentence mockingly. I looked at him closely and I appreciated the exposed flesh the slave clothes of my country provided. My eyes traced the long eyelashes of his down-casted eyes, the bruise on his cheek, the creamy neck and shoulder, the curve of his hips…

Soon I felt heat rushing to my shaft and thoughts of pinning the boy on the mattress and fucking him senseless filled my mind. How would he squirm under me, in what voice would he cry as I thrust myself deep inside him, again, and again…

"Sire?"

Stiles' voice cut my trail of thought, making me realize I had yet to answer him. I looked at myself to see my cock already half-hard.

I approached the boy and he raised his eyes questionably at me, blushing furiously at my nakedness. I pulled the covers off of him completely and let my hands run through his hair, down to his shoulder and lower on his thighs. He did not flinch at my touch.

"You are used to being touched." I observed raising an eyebrow.

He didn't deny it, and a small spark of anger lit in me. I withdrew my hand and made my way towards the door leading to the baths attached to the chambers, where I knew hot water awaited me.

Just before passing the door, I turned my head slightly towards the boy.

"Sleep some more. It's not even dawn yet."


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guys, I'm back with the next chapter! Sorry for the huge gaps between the updates so hopefully this one will make it up to you all! As always, a big THANK YOU for all the support you are giving me and I hope you lot like how the story goes so far! XD**

 **WARNING: This story contains many triggers such as slash, non-con, dub-con, mentions of rape, graphic sexual/violence descriptions, knotting, m-preg, Omega-verse, slavery, underage etc.**

 **RATING: M**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own any Teen Wolf characters.**

 **Chapter 3**

(Stiles' POV)

Again this dream… every night the same. I know it is nothing but the product of my imagination, yet I am never able to wake myself up before the final scene. A scene I am unable to recall when I open my eyes screaming. And this night was no different.

My eyes shoot open but they cannot really see. I try to breath but no air enters my lungs. Tears wet the pillows as the panic attack takes hold of me. Every night the same; and I always wait patiently for it to end, alone.

But not tonight. Strong arms pulled me to sit up and a voice called out my name. I curled into the comforting heat as this amazing musky scent filled my nostrils, and after a while I could breathe again. I felt the cursed signs of my inhuman nature retract as I regained control over my body. I realised it was Peter's hands around me and I pulled away.

"Forgive me, I-I disrupted your sleep, I am very sorry." I exclaimed, but he only turned my head to face him without replying. I didn't raise my eyes. I expected to at least be hit for this, since I often annoyed the other servants in the quarters we used to share and earned myself a few slaps, but no blow ever came.

When I dared to look up, I saw Peter's green eyes darkened, gazing at me predatorily. Before I could even blink, his lips were on mine, causing me to let out a surprised gasp. That was all he needed. He forcefully pushed his tongue inside my mouth and quickly dominated it.

His left hand gripped tightly on my hair, and roughly tilted my head to the side, as he deepened the kiss even more. My mind was hazed, my other self went crazy; I knew I shouldn't be feeling anything from this, and I really tried to stifle my cries as better as I could, but when he bit my lower lip, I could not hold back the embarrassing moan that escaped me.

After that, it was as if Peter snapped. He broke the kiss and his mouth ravished my neck, kissing and biting all the way to my collarbone and shoulder. His hand came to grab onto my side with brutal force, which made me cry out in pain, only now remembering my injuries.

Suddenly, I was pushed away, and left panting and drained. Peter's eyes still dark and lustful gazed at me so intensely that I had to lower my eyes, only to realise that he had been sleeping next to me completely naked. I felt more heat rush to my face.

"Go back to sleep." he ordered me in a husky voice and stood up from the bed.

††††

(Peter's POV)

When I heard a scream next to me, I shot up, my dagger at hand and my claws and fangs ready. Where I come from, it's not uncommon for high ranked people to get murdered in their beds, so I wouldn't be surprised if this had been another murder attempt against me. However, it was just the slave boy. Apparently, having nightmares was his hobby.

But, even though his eyes were wide open, he seemed unable to breath. Tears streamed down his eyes from the effort and his face was white like paper.

I grabbed him and pulled his body upright, all the while calling out to him, trying to make him focus, as he was still lost in the maze of whatever fantasies had invoked this reaction.

When Stiles finally managed to breathe, his body relaxed and fell exhausted in my embrace. He was trembling.

Sooner than what I would have liked, he became aware of his surroundings and pulled away.

He started apologizing…well, I expected that, since he had dared interrupt my sleep, though I didn't feel angry, which was quite unusual for my quick temper.

I raised a hand and turned his head to me, intending to pretend I was angry and tease him a bit.

But, I never got through with that plan.

His face was…I don't know how to even describe such beauty.

His eyelashes shone like diamonds as tears adorned them. His eyelids, heavy from crying and exhaustion, gave him the most seductive look I have ever seen on a man…or a woman.

And his lips…red and swollen like ripe cherries, begging to be devoured.

 _Mine._

That was all I could think of as I kissed him, brutally enough to bruise those lips.

I felt, rather than saw his surprise and I forced his mouth open, crazed to taste him.

I never kiss when taking someone. There's no point. Fucking their brains out is more than enough to satisfy me. But, this mouth was so sweet I could not stop marking it as mine.

I could feel his body tremble as he tried to muffle his cries, so I bit his lip hard, to draw a reaction from him.

The sound I earned myself was the lewdest moan I have ever heard. I felt my blood rushing to my manhood and my control snapped.

I ripped my lips from his and attacked his neck next, biting and kissing desperately, hoping to draw that sound from him again. And I was rewarded with more than I had asked for. All I could think was that I just _had_ to make this boy mine, own him completely.

My hand found his shirt and I grabbed it roughly, wanting to rip the barrier that kept me from feeling that silky skin on mine.

But at that moment, I felt his body go rigid in my arms, as a pained cry escaped him.

It felt as if reality had punched me right in the face. I instantly recalled his condition and pushed him away from me. Looking at his dishevelled and hazed expression almost had me attack him again, but I managed to suppress my desires enough to say something and leave the bed.

I went to the window, hoping the cold night air would make the heat burning inside me subside.

Why did I stop? Normally, I wouldn't have cared if the other happened to be injured, as long as I satisfied my need.

For some reason, just taking the boy as he was didn't seem appealing. His body was naturally sensitive; the only expression I would rather see on his face as I made him mine would be desire and lust. A face distorted by pain and stained with tears other than those of pleasure reminded me too much of that damned _queen_.

I heard movement from the bed and I turned my head. I saw Stiles trying to stand up, his poker face in place, nothing accept from a lingering blush on it betraying the myriad of expressions he had shown just now.

"What are you doing?" I asked a bit more roughly than I meant to, and saw him drop his beautiful eyes on the floor.

"I should return to the servant quarters. I have intruded long enough."

I frowned displeased and walked towards where he stood. Only now did I realize our height difference. He wasn't short, but he was about two heads shorter than me. Well, I am taller than most people I meet anyway.

"You are not going anywhere."

He kept his eyes lowered but he insisted.

"I will only be a nuisance, sire. You saw my… circumstances."

"What did you dream of that upset you so?"

"I can never recall the dreams."

There it was… that little uptick of his heart betraying his lie. Well, I would press for the truth another time.

"Return to the bed." I said as I moved to search through a chest, eventually pulling out a pair of pants.

"But-"

"I am not going to say it again."

At that, Stiles finally obeyed and with slow and cautious moves, he managed to curl under the covers.

I followed after him.

††††

(Stiles' POV)

The bed sank a bit from Peter's weight, and he pulled the covers over himself. Suddenly, I felt his huge arm sneak around me, pulling me close to him. My back came into contact with his chest, and I could feel my heart beat like crazy.

"Relax." I heard him chuckle. Then, his voice became serious again. "They are but dreams. They cannot hurt you."

This man had almost taken me no more than a few minutes ago, and now he was holding me in his arms, offering words of comfort…?

I could not help but relax against the warmth on my back. I was too hurt and angry to notice his scent last time… but now…as he held me close I could bask in it and a whine threatened to come out but I held it back in the last moment.

I could feel my other self purring excited at this contact but I still couldn't accept that I felt such a powerful pull towards the man who stripped my beloved Jackson of everything but his life. He was probably in a cell right now cold and in pain and I was lying comfortably in his own bed with his sworn enemy! I was the worst…

Tears stung my eyes and dripped on the pillow, and my last thought was Jackson's face twisted in a disgusted expression, before exhaustion drew me in an uneasy sleep.

††††

(Jackson's POV)

The long hours that intervened between the Peter's visit and the break of dawn passed slowly. I was too caught up in my guilt and regret to even register when two Azari warriors opened the door of my cell and dragged me out. I believed I knew where they were taking me; to my execution. As if I would believe the words of _that_ man when he said he would spare my life. And, in fact, I did not want it to be spared. Death is the only thing that can cleanse my shame at this point.

Soon I realized the warriors were not taking me to the courtyard but to the throne hall, instead. I had assumed Peter would have the townspeople gathered at the courtyard and make a spectacle out of my execution, since he said he liked engraving fear into the hearts of the people he conquered.

A few minutes later, the gates of the throne hall stood before us, and one of the warriors pushed them open as the other yanked me to walk in. Truthfully, I was not surprised when I saw Peter seated on my father's throne, looking down at me with that annoying smirk of his. There were no other guards around, just a black-cloaked figure next to the few stairs which led to the throne. His face was hidden under the hood of the cloak. The two warriors who had brought me there forced me to kneel in front of Peter, and bowed their heads to their leader.

Only that moment did I notice Stiles, curled at the base of the throne next to Peter's feet like a pet, his eyes refusing to meet mine, a dark bruise tainting his cheek, his lower lip cut and swollen and hideous bite marks on his neck and collarbone.

"Stiles! Stiles, are you alright?!"

No reply came from him.

"Stiles, please, look at me! Just tell me you are fine…"

"Good morning, prince. I trust you've rested well in your new chambers." Peter mocked amused and ran his fingers through Stiles' hair on purpose to provoke me. As if what he had done to him wasn't enough. Stiles must have suffered in his hands! That brute had even beat him!

" _You… don't touch him!"_ I heard myself hiss at him, and made to stand up, but one of the warriors who stood behind me hit me on my back and kept me down.

Peter chuckled amused at me which fuelled my anger further.

"I am free to touch what is mine, _prince_. You on the other hand have nothing to call your own anymore, be it land, palace, servants…even family."

I felt my gut freeze at his words. He was bluffing… he must have been! There was no way my parents were…

"Lies! My parents fled the palace long before you and your dogs breached the gates."

"Then I must have caught the wrong people!" Peter mocked with fake concern. The gates opened once more and I raised my eyes.

††††

(Stiles' POV)

That morning when I woke up, I found myself alone in the bed. I let out a sigh of relief and run my hand on the empty space next to me. The mattress was cold. I sat up wincing from the pain on my side and brought my hand on it instinctively. I felt heat rising to my face as that gesture of mine brought back quite vividly the memories from the previous night.

I have to admit I am utterly confused by the so called _bloodthirsty_ _prince's_ behaviour so far. One minute he brutally forces me to… _satisfy_ him, and the other he kisses me like a lover would and holds me close as he sleeps. Surely, he must be only playing with me. He means to see whether my apathy is an act. I cannot blame him, or anyone in that matter, for thinking so. My stoic expression many times has been interpreted as pride and arrogance. Especially by the other servants of the palace. I don't really mind though.

A knock on the door had me focus on the present again. I slowly stood up from the bed and covered the distance to the door as quickly as I could, given my condition and the chain on my ankles.

When I opened it I saw the gentle woman from the previous day looking up at me with a smile that reached her eyes. I almost smiled back.

Her smile was gone in seconds as her eyes scanned me. Had the bruise that warrior gave me worsened? It did not hurt that much though. The old woman raised her hand but I instinctively flinched away and she paused.

" _Nira shankra_." she said looking at me with her warm eyes. The words for _'don't be afraid'_.

I nodded and she resumed her moves. But she didn't go for my cheek as I expected. Instead, her fingers traced my neck, one of the places where Peter had bitten and kissed many times. I felt myself blush and I quickly pulled away covering my neck with my hand. Had he left marks on me?

The woman saw my discomfort and did not try to touch me again. Instead, she handed me some bread and dried fruit to eat and beckoned me to follow her.

††††

I could not believe my eyes. There was just no chance! The king and queen had escaped! They must have! When they saw that Jackson wasn't coming they surely… No. They couldn't have…they couldn't have been waiting for him until the end… Then, it was all _my_ fault! I should have gone back to tell them of their son's wish to stay and fight! I was not supposed to follow Jackson, I… I was the one to blame for this…

" _Mother? Father?"_ I heard Jackson whisper, shock succeeding doubt in his voice. My stomach clenched violently. The queen was a mess, her dress torn to pieces and the king's face was unrecognizable from the beating he had taken. Yet, both of them gazed upon their only child and the queen could not hold back her tears and cries, until one of the soldiers who brought them in slapped her hard.

"I guess I did catch the right people, after all." Peter derided, but his voice held no jest this time.

"Don't touch them! Don't you dare touch them!" Jackson shouted at Peter, pure despair on his face. That did not seem to faze the latter in the least, though.

"Sorry prince, I'm afraid bargain time is over."

Peter nodded once, and the black-dressed figure who had remained silent until now, stepped forward. My eyes widened as I looked at it. A dark aura engulfed it which got darker by the second. A chill run through my spine and my body felt heavy, as if I was being pushed to the ground. My eyes darted to Jackson, the king and queen, the guards, but I seemed the only one to be affected so!

The figure stood in front of Jackson's parents and wrapped each hand around their throats. In mere seconds, they were drowning in their own blood.

"STOP! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING TO THEM?!" I heard Jackson scream but his voice sounded distant, the buzzing in my ears getting louder until I couldn't hear anything else. I wanted to avert my eyes from the gruesome sight but all the strength had left my body. Why was the only one feeling this?!

Their veins became black and visible on their ashy skins and before long, they lay dead on the dark-cloaked figure's feet, distorted looks on their faces.

As soon as they died, the aura around the cloaked figure dissipated and all the pressure that was crushing me seized, leaving me shivering and drenched in cold sweat.

I could only watch as Jackson screamed and fought the guards to get close to his parents. The guards quickly subdued him and one of them hit him on the head, putting a stop to his screams.

The dark-cloaked figured turned to me, face hidden beneath the hood; yet I felt it stare at me, as if it knew I had _seen_ what happened. Its gaze lingered on me only for a moment, as it turned and bowed to Peter, reassuming its place on his other side.

††††

I made my way to the cells where Jackson was being held in. Every step I took grew heavier and my heart beat in a frenzy inside my chest. I had to tell him. I had to tell Jackson it was my fault his parents ended up captured and killed. I could not let him blame himself for what I had done…

There were no guards watching his cell; and why would there be? Once I laid eyes upon him, I could tell he barely posed a threat to anyone right now. Jackson was just sitting with his back against the wall of the cell, staring into nothingness, trails on his face betraying he had cried. My stomach gave a nasty turn.

"Jackson?" I whispered, as my fingers wrapped on the bars, my voice too loud in my ears.

Jackson's void eyes turned to me and life flickered in them once he registered who I was. He came close to the bars his voice hoarse as he spoke my name.

"Stiles… My poor Stiles…" he said and he caressed me through the bars, his fingers lingering on the marks Peter had "graced" me with the night before. His jaw clenched and he closed his eyes exhausted. I hated seeing him like this. "Forgive me…I failed to protect you from that _animal_."

I couldn't bear hearing this.

"No! Please, do not trouble yourself with me. I am undeserving of your kindness." I grabbed his hand and brought it to my lips. I felt so horrible! I was less than trash… I had betrayed the only person whom I held dear.

"Stiles, right now you are the only one left that deserves it." Jackson replied with a sad smile. My stomach twisted again and I let my gaze fall from his face. I could not stand the sincerity in those eyes. I saw the bandages covering his shoulder, and tears stung my eyes.

I let my head drop and pulled away from Jackson's touch. It was time I told him the truth.

"Jackson… there is something you must know… about your parents."

I was sure his eyes were wide and I had his full attention even without looking at his face.

"What about it?"

There was a sharp tone in his question I had never heard before. I did not dare look at him.

"Do you remember when I came to you before you went to battle… to tell you everything was ready for your parents and you to escape, and that they were only waiting for you?"

"I do, Stiles, and I also recall I ordered you to join them in my place and escape. Do not worry yourself, it wasn't your fault you all got captured. You were not the one supposed to protect them-"

"I never went back."

"…what?"

"I never went back to tell them you were not going. I followed you, even after you said not to. They waited for you and… I never went to tell them you were not going. I… I am so sorry…"

After a few seconds that felt like forever, the answer I so dreaded came.

" _What did you say?"_

My eyes shot up hearing the hurt in his voice.

"I-"

" _You let them wait?"_ he said, his voice just above a whisper. But in his eyes… I saw pain and…accusation. " _How could you do that?! You let them get captured by the enemy, and now they are dead because of that."_

"Jackson…"

"NEVER CALL ME THAT AGAIN!"

I flinched at his words. Jackson walked away from the bars and run a hand through his hair. He punched the wall with his fist and cursed enraged.

" _I-"_ I started but Jackson kicked the tin plate full with porridge he had not touched. It hit the bars and some of the contents spilled on me, silencing me more efficiently than any punch would.

" _Don't speak another word. Leave. I don't want to see your face."_

And I did just that. I left. I run as quickly as I could. I needed to get out of there. I could feel guilt and despair clawing on my soul. I could not breathe. Tears streamed down my eyes and the pain on my sides was so strong my stomach contracted, forcing me to kneel down and empty its contents on the floor. The tingling on my head and lower back returned and I knew I could not hold back the transformation. I needed to hide; if anyone saw me in that form they would…

I stood up again, barely seeing through the blinding tears. Jackson hated me. _Hated me._ That thought kept echoing inside my head as my body made its way through the familiar corridors of the palace without my eyes registering anything.

My feet kept carrying me aimlessly. Jackson's rejection had caused all the emotions bottling up inside me to burst out violently. Every string that was barely holding me together was snapping and breaking apart by the second. In less than two days, my whole world had crumbled, and I was reduced to a sex toy for the pleasure of a conceited vulgar prince, while Jackson had come to loath me more than I had ever thought possible.

If this was how things were going to be from now on, there was no point to carry on. I should do both Jackson and myself a favour and just… disappear.

††††

(Peter's POV)

"Gather the men, Danny. I want everything packed and ready for our departure tomorrow. I'm leaving behind two thousand warriors for you to secure the city and the surrounding areas. They shouldn't cause you any problems." I said to my first general, a man who had managed not to fail me in all three years of my conquests; an achievement few men could brag about.

"Yes, your Highness." he nodded as we made our way through the corridor leading to my chambers.

"Once you appoint someone to rule the place in the name of his Majesty the Emperor, follow us. I would have you with me in Azaran, Danny."

"As you command, my prince." Danny said his stern face ever in place as he bowed his head respectfully. I was ready to dismiss him but the words never left my lips. I could smell blood coming from my chambers. I hurried down the corridor and slammed the doors open, my hand on my sword's hilt and Danny right behind me.

My eyes widened as I took in the sight before me. Stiles was sprawled on the floor, his back lambed against the wall, staring into nothing with multiple gapping wounds on both his forearms and a bloody dagger, _my_ dagger, in his hand. The stench of blood was everywhere.

"Get the healer here now!" I barked at Danny who vanished through the ajar doors. I hastened towards Stiles' side and made to grab the dagger from him. My words didn't seem to break through his broken sobs, yet, when his eyes met mine, his expression changed completely.

I had noticed the quick reflexes of the boy the time he managed to steal my dagger from me, yet I never expected Stiles to move as fast as he did and only my inhuman speed saved me from getting my throat slashed by the dagger in his hands. But that wasn't the end. With swift movements one would never expect from a house slave, Stiles stood up and lashed at me again. I was so taken aback by the ferocity in his eyes that I failed to avoid the dagger this time.

I felt a painful burn on my left shoulder as the blade of my own weapon dag into my flesh, up to the hilt. But that meant Stiles was now within my reach. I grabbed his wrist and squeezed it almost hard enough to break the bone. He yelped as his grip on the dagger loosened, yet he kept glaring at me with all his might. I grabbed his neck and pushed him against the wall tightening my grip until his free hand came up and tried to push mine away.

††††

(Stiles' POV)

 _Who is this?_

 _Peter… I stabbed him._

 _Why…?_

 _He hurt me… he hurt Jackson…he took everything… a monster… I want to kill him…_

 _Why don't you…?_

 _I can't…_

 _Why…?_

 _I don't want to…_

 _Why?_

 _Mate…_

††††

(Peter's POV)

" _What the fuck are you doing, kid?"_

Stiles' expression suddenly changed into one of despair and his eyes seemed almost pleading.

" _Kill me._ _Please…_ " He choked out and dag his nails, no, _claws,_ on my hand just to irk me further. Only now did I notice the two pointy ears that had popped on Stiles' head and saw the bushy tail, no, _tails,_ lapping hectically around the boy's legs.

I was about to say something but the bang of the door and the dumfounded gasp of the healer Danny had brought with him cut me off.

"Your Highness!" Danny shouted and made to ran towards me but my words stopped him.

"Stay there, Danny. I've got this."

I could see the eyes that previously glared at me with such rage had now started to lose focus. The massive blood loss and the physical strain had Stiles' grip on my hand loosening and his claws, along with his ears and tails, retracting before his hand fell and his eyes closed.

I grabbed him as he fell and moved him towards the bed, before gesturing for the healer to approach. Only then did Danny see the dagger still protruding from my shoulder.

"Your Highness! You are injured! How dare that filthy slave attack you?! Please, allow me to take this vermin's life at once!" he spat enraged and drew his scimitar as he stepped closer to the bed.

"No. He is not to be harmed." I stated matter-of-factly and turned to the healer who awaited for orders.

"You. Tend to him first."

"But, your Highness, the dagger-"

"Don't make me say it again."

"Apologies, your Highness."

I pulled back and made room for him to come by Stiles' side and examine his wounds.

"The cuts are quite deep, your Highness, but only a few require stitches. The veins are intact, thankfully." he informed and opened his bag, pulling out some vials, scissors, a needle and clean bandages. "I will need some fresh water." he added and Danny brought the bowl from the corner of the room. The water had been changed by the servants so it was the best we had at the moment.

I watched as he sank a clean cloth inside the bowl and dragged it over Stiles' torn flesh. He proceeded to carefully apply different antibiotic salves over most of the horrid wounds and then began stitching up the ones that were too deep to heal on their own. When he finished, he wrapped the bandages tightly around his forearms, all the way to the elbow.

"This is the best I can do for him, my prince." he said turning to me after letting out a sigh. "He has lost a lot of blood so he needs rest. I am afraid I will need to clean the wounds and change the bandages again tomorrow and see how it goes. Now, if you will excuse me I will take my leave." the healer stated and left the room, leaving me at the mercy of Danny and his judgmental glare.

I sat heavily on the chair next to the bed and grabbed the hilt of the dagger with my hand. I clenched my jaw and pulled it forcefully out of my flesh, growling lowly at the shooting pain. Danny glanced at the already healing wound.

"Your Highness," Danny started and I turned my head slightly towards him while keeping my eyes on Stiles. "I oppose your choice to keep this slave. He clearly wishes to kill you! You cannot have such a person near you."

I shrugged indifferently, a smirk forming on my lips. "I think he is a fine spoil, Danny. He does nothing but surprise me."

"Prince, with all due respect, he managed to _injure_ you."

"Come now, don't be such a worrywart. I heal very fast, as I am sure you know."

"That is true." he admitted and I chuckled at my general.

"You may go, Danny, I have no further orders for you."

Danny appeared hesitant for a moment, but he finally bowed and gave me a final concerned look before leaving.

When Danny was gone, I let out a sigh I had been holding since the moment I saw Stiles on the floor. I can't believe this. Those _tails_ , well, there is only one creature I know with such a trait. He is a fucking _fox demon._ Which means the _same_ creature as that bloody queen. So for sure the legitimate heir to my father's empire.

I let out a humourless chuckle and sat on the chair next to the bed. My mind was running a marathon right now. This, actually, explained a lot, from the quick reflexes, to the young appearance and unmatched beauty. Yet, from what I know, foxes are moody tricksters by nature. Stiles must have learnt to suppress his temperament in order to hold back the transformation. In this country, apparently shape-shifters aren't even known. He must think he is an abnormality, a freak. But instincts are instincts.

He is going to be fun toying with… I really want to see how long he can keep this up. Sooner or later he will succumb to his nature and throw away the façade of the meek servant he puts up.

Yet, I am pissed. Pissed at the stupid kid, that was given, but more than that I am pissed at myself.

 _When I saw him in that pool of blood, why the fuck did I panic so much?_


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys! Long time since the last update I know, but its been quite busy for me and so inspiration comes slowly... I hope you don't quit on me and continue to enjoy my story!**

 **If you have any suggestions or ideas regarding the plot, or if there is a specific character from the series you'd like to see in the story please don't hesitate and pm me or write it in a review so I might consider it.**

 **Also, in this chapter there is a bit of a time jump just to sort of get on with the plot, but unfortunately no sexy times between Stiles and Peter (I'm really sorry steter fans T_T) I try to put at least one steter scene in every chapter but this time there was no room for any... However, there should be some smut in the next one so stay tuned! XD**

 **WARNING: This story contains many triggers such as slash, non-con, dub-con, mentions of rape, graphic sexual/violence descriptions, knotting, m-preg, Omega-verse, slavery, underage etc.**

 **RATING: M**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own any Teen Wolf characters.**

 **Chapter 4**

(Peter's POV)

"Why hasn't he woken up?" I all but growled at the healer who came to change Stiles' bandages the following day.

"It is due to the excessive blood loss he suffered. I believe he will remain unconscious for at least one more day. If possible, I would recommend your Highness as well to avoid exerting yourself today at the journey. Leave your subordinates to handle some tasks-"

"Mind your tongue, healer."

The man cringed and no reply came, as expected. "You may go now. We'll be ready to leave within the hour so prepare as well."

"Yes, prince." The healer replied quickly as he bowed and left the room.

I turned towards where the little fox lay. He looked extremely pale, and his expression was pained even as he slept. I needed to find out what the hell had happened that had him behave like a madman. And I was sure whose fault it was… no one could have such an impact on Stiles but _him_. I stood up and made my way to the door. I flung it open and hastened towards the cell.

I still haven't made up my mind on whether to take Jackson to Azaran or leave him here. It is the first time I have allowed a member of a royal family to live, so I am not sure what to do with him. If I take him to Azaran, father will have him executed as soon as his identity is revealed. But then, as troublesome as it is, I'll be breaking the deal I made with Stiles and he will probably try to escape, or kill himself again. No, there is only one way I can think that will spare this stupid prince's life and make even the emperor unable to lay a finger on him unless I say so; he must agree to join my personal army.

The army I've been leading these past years is of course loyal to me, yet the emperor's orders are absolute and overpower mine. However, within this army, there is a smaller one, over which I hold complete power. These warriors carry my mark branded on their flesh and nothing can touch them, not even the emperor's wrath. They are exempted of all rules of the crown and I am the one who decides who to punish and how. If that prick agrees to join, he will manage to get away with his life. If he refuses, then, his fate will be at my father's mercy; or, better, lack thereof.

 _Let's see how far your stubbornness and stupidity go, prick…_

††††

(Jackson's POV)

After Stiles left my mind was a haze. Anger the likes of which I'd never felt before had consumed every fibre of my being. Stiles had left my parents ignorant to get caught just like that. I cannot forgive such an act… he decided to save himself rather than follow my orders and perform his duty to his King and Queen.

 _How could he?!_ I thought as I paced through the cell fuming. I hit the bars again and I let out an irritated growl. A chuckle from the other side startled me since I was too consumed in my thoughts that I hadn't heard anyone come.

" _You."_ I hissed furious.

"Did you expect someone else?" Peter shot back mockingly. I grabbed the bars tightly, glaring daggers at him.

"I will kill you, you murderer!" I shouted and hit the bars again, my mind blind to anything else but the face of the man who killed my parents, who stripped me of my title, who took my kingdom.

"I eagerly await for the day when your threats might actually sound real." The imbecile dared to snort at my words, but then his expression became serious, and he came closer, staring down at me darkly. "Your slave boy tried to kill himself. What did you say to him?"

A moment passed before I realised what he had said. I felt a sting of guilt in my gut, yet I stubbornly ignored it. I was just too angry to care.

"I see he still has some pride left. I guess he deserves it after letting my parents get caught just to save himself, anyway." I spat back but didn't meet his eyes.

"Please, even you can't be _that_ stupid."

"Wha-"

"Shut your mouth and pay attention."

"…"

"I don't know what you _think_ the boy did, but it's obviously wrong. He was captured in front of the main gates. Not quite the escape route, don't you think?"

Near the main gates? That's where I was fighting with the guards. There was no reason whatsoever for him to be-

" _What have I done?!"_ I whispered horrified at the realisation.

"From what I gather, not much, just accused your most loyal slave, who loves you more than life itself, that he betrayed you by abandoning your parents to save his own skin."

"He _did_ abandon them! They kept waiting for me because _he_ never went back to tell them I wasn't going! It's still his fault-"

"Oh, cut the drama, already! Everything is _your_ fault! You are the fucking prince and he is a simple slave. _You_ failed to protect your kingdom and _you_ failed to protect your parents, end of story. Deal with it, brat."

The barbarian's words struck me like a whip. It was everything I kept denying. How pathetic I was! He was right. Everything he said was right.

My knees weakened and my hands slid on the bars as I knelt down, crashed by guilt, responsibility and self-loathing.

"Why do you keep me alive? Haven't you humiliated me enough?"

"As much as I'd like to oblige you, I already said I've made a deal with your precious Stiles, so, unfortunately, killing you is out of the question."

I looked up and glared at him again.

"I saw the marks on him. Have you no shame, taking him against his will?"

"On the contrary. He is the most lascivious person I've come across. His body is made to be caressed. I am surprised you never cared to know how sensual and responsive he is when embraced. Then again, it might be so because I am his partner." Peter replied grinning and I clenched my jaw as my stomach clenched at the thought of him touching Stiles.

Yet, I did not have time to reply as Peter's face changed and I instantly knew what he was about to say was important.

"Do you hate me, Jackson?" It was the first time he spoke my name and it fuelled the wrath inside me.

"You murdered my family. I don't hate you. I _loathe_ you."

"Good. Then I take it you want to take revenge."

"I _will_ have your life, mongrel."

"From where you stand right now, I fail to see that happening any time soon, _brat_. He paused. "But if you join my personal army, the deal changes."

"What?! You must be joking!" When I received no answer, I realized he was being serious. _"I will not bow to you!"_

"Today, we are leaving for Azaran and you are coming along. If we reach my country and you are still a war prisoner, you will be executed as soon as we get there. You'll never get a chance to take your revenge." He let the importance of the words sink in before carrying on. "However, if you bear my mark, then the law of Azaran automatically seizes to apply to you. I am the only one who has power over my selected few; not even the emperor will be able touch you. If you truly wish to live, it is the only choice you have."

"Why are you so set on saving my life? I don't understand you at all."

"Don't get me wrong, I couldn't care less about you. I simply never break my promises once I make them. Yet, that was my promise, not my father's. Once you step your foot in Azaran, you are as good as dead." He paused again, giving me a strange look. "You've got one hour to think it over." He turned around and left me, angry and totally confused.

††††

(Stiles' POV)

One week had passed since I woke up to the gentle rocking of a caravan as it headed to Azaran. The healer would come every day to change the bandages on the slowly healing wounds on my hands, as well as check the progress of my broken ribs, so I couldn't lick my wounds to heal them faster like I'd normally do, unless I wanted to draw even more attention to myself. For some reason, Peter would always tag along. He would talk briefly to the man, yet he would not say a single word to me. It should come as a relief, yet why did it made me so upset? Why wouldn't he just let me die? Why would he seem so angry when he looked at my wounds? If I didn't know better, I would think he… cared. But all this is because of the _deal_. He didn't want to lose his newfound toy so quickly.

The tenth day, I got a fever. My body was hot and I kept sweating the whole night, yet the healer could not find the cause. When he gazed at Peter apologetically, the prince's eyes flashed angry; in my feverish state I thought I saw them glow red as he harshly said something to the man, but I couldn't concentrate and drifted off. That time, scattered images that made no sense invaded my dreams, confusing me and making me toss in my sleep.

A woman with long silver hair that reached her hips, would cradle a child in her arms, while screams came from somewhere behind her. She kept running, tears staining her beautiful face and fear twisting her expression. She entered a room, put the child down and locked the door behind her in a frenzy, barricading it with whatever she was strong enough to pull in front of it. She turned to her child and pulled it in a tight embrace, whispering sweet words of comfort in a trembling voice.

The child seemed to relax in his mother's arms, and the woman pulled back, her eyes having the most heartbroken expression I have ever seen. She kissed the child and placed a leaf on his forehead, saying something in a language I could not understand. Slowly, the child's eyes closed, and when they opened again, it looked as if he saw the woman for the first time. Uncertainty twisted his features, and tears began gathering at the corners of his eyes. The woman stood up and pulled a pouch from her bosom, forming with its content a circle and some patterns around the now terrified child, whose tails kept lashing around and his small pointy ears where glued on his head. She began chanting and the powder she had cast started to glow. She gave the child a final glance, and then everything disappeared.

The vague feeling of being surrounded by lukewarm water brought me back to reality, yet when I tried to move, I felt restrained. My eyes cracked open slightly, and I took in my surroundings. I was lying naked in a tab, yet, when I tried to sit up, an arm held me still, tightening gently around my torso. And then … that heartbeat I had learnt to know better than my own. His scent was all around me and my heart fell into a painful, rabbit-like rhythm. It reverberated through my chest, and I was sure he could feel it, if not hear it. The small tingling sensation I always felt when my ears came out spread on my head as they popped out and flattened instinctively on top of it.

Then, I heard it. The voice I had inexplicably wished that it had been directed to me finally did so, as Peter spoke softly, his tone hushed. A big hand came to rest on the base of my ear and started rubbing it calmingly. Almost immediately, my feverish mind relaxed and my eyes closed again, the voice and warmth of the other's body drawing a soft purr from me and my head fell to the side, presenting my neck to whom my inner self perceived as its alpha. My muzzled brain went along with my stupid instincts and soon I was asleep again in pure contentment.

††††

I opened my eyes tiredly and gazed at the opening of the tent. Moonlight was the only thing illuminating the dark night, casting shadows inside the tent. I could tell my fever was gone and I felt the urge to get out of the bed and this tent. Once I left the warmth of the covers, I felt the cold tagging on my skin. Azaran was a south-eastern country, so I though the closer we got the warmer it would get, but apparently I was wrong.

I took one of the covers and wrapped it around me, before I made my way out of the tent. My feet had grown weak from the lack of exercise and my steps were staggering and uncertain. As I passed through the other tents in the silence of the night, I could hear voices coming from where patrolling warriors stood, yet I found more fascinating the way my toes would sink inside the sand as I walked, leaving trails behind. I was so caught up with this new sensation that I didn't realize I had passed the last line of tents and when I raised my eyes, my breath caught at the marvellous sight of what was the _dessert_.

The sand stretched farther than my eyes could see, forming sand hills of different sizes, glowing under the moonlight. The sky was scattered with more stars than I could possibly hope to count in a lifetime, shimmering in all their heavenly glory, only outshined by the huge moon that floated high in the sky, bathing everything underneath it in its light.

I let my senses free and closed my eyes, ready to feel everything there was to know about this new terrain. My other self within me purred content since it was unusual for me to allow it to take control. I took in the different smells, the dryness of the air the silence; I felt everything there was to feel, heard everything there was to hear. From the wind that blew over the sand hills to the creatures hidden beneath the sands.

I let my ears out voluntarily just to make the sensation better. Even if I hate my nature, I cannot always deny my instincts, even if I am too ashamed of them.

I felt someone approaching me, and I instantly knew who it was. I scented the air and my ears flickered as I took in his musk scent before I retracted them, changing back. I couldn't smell him strongly anymore. Not in this weak form… it was the first time I thought I hated it.

"Why are you out here?"

"I was feeling better." I only said, my voice hoarse from disuse. I turned and looked at Peter. His eyes were smug and yet guarded, as always.

He came closer in all his imposing presence and those blazing eyes studied my face, before they turned towards the endless sea of sand.

"Do you like it? The dessert. My armies marched upon the sands like a sea of iron and death, rivalling the armies Gilgamesh unleashed as he marched against Babylon."

"It is breath-taking." I said, yet I had no idea of the man, or the place Peter had spoken about. Being a slave meant no education after all, even in Emmeria which was filled with scholars and wise men.

Peter's gaze returned to me. He seemed pleased with my answer. He reached out and snaked his hand behind my head, tangling his fingers in my locks. His face was right in front of me and I shut my eyes tightly, thinking that I knew what was coming.

But, instead, Peter's forehead rested on mine, his breath brushing against my lips as he spoke.

"Your fever is gone." Peter's voice was low and deep, and stirred something inside me causing me goosebumps. "Go sleep some more."

My eyes shot open as I felt his hand retract and Peter turned to leave. He had not intended to kiss me…?

Before I knew it, my hand came up and grabbed on the prince's sleeve. Peter turned, his brow arched up mildly surprised.

"Ah…" my hand clenched on the fabric tighter. "…forgive me…I-"

"Stiles?"

My eyes widened and I turned to face the person I expected never to see again.

††††

(Peter's POV)

I turned my head the same time as Stiles to see Jackson stomping towards us, an irritated expression on his stupid face. So troublesome.

Stiles' grip on my sleeve tightened momentarily before his hand fell lifelessly on his side, his poker face back in place. I shot the prick a glare for simply _existing_.

" _Master"_ the boy lisped averting his eyes to the ground, his face having lost all colour.

"We need to talk, Stiles." Jackson only said.

"About what?"

"Stiles, listen, last time I went too far." Jackson said and reached out to touch Stiles, but the boy stepped back.

"No. I think those were your real feelings. I understand it, I really do." Stiles paused in an attempt to find the right words. "But, it was quite the shock… to hear what you truly think of me. So, please… for now… I cannot face you…"

 _Finally. The boy grew some balls._ Well, it was only natural after what happened between them. Yet, I thought he was going to run back to his owner like a lost cub - no pun intended - no matter how many times Jackson would kick him.

Jackson looked as if the kid had slapped him. Surely, that was the first time Stiles rejected him. He had thought every cruel word he had told him, every accusation, would be completely erased with a simple ' _I'm sorry Stiles'._

Jackson's puzzled expression was replaced by hurt.

"What is this, Stiles? Why are you being like this? I just want to make things right between us! I was wrong to blame-"

Stiles shook his head negatively.

"There is no need for that, Master. Whatever you give me, I will always gladly take."

 _And there he goes again._ The boy's eyes held so much loyalty that caused me to roll my eyes exasperated. That look would always be reserved for the prick, He would always be forgiven, no matter what he did.

 _This is dragging too long,_ I said to myself justifying my butting in. It wasn't because I was being left out or anything.

"Glad to entertain your little drama here, but I am pretty sure your post is in the opposite direction, _guard_. Return to your position."

Jackson's face lit with an insulted expression and I have to say I expected a come-back, yet none came. _Chance to play the bigger man in front of the little fox, huh…_

"This isn't over, Stiles. I _will_ make things right." Jackson said before walking away.

Stiles sighed, and then turned and gave me a questioning look.

"Guard?"

That's right. I never got around to telling him the arrangement between me and the shithead, so I briefly explained what had happened. Stiles tilted his head slightly to the side and stared at me while I spoke, as if trying to read behind my words. The kid isn't stupid to blindly trust me. In fact, his eyes spark with intelligence when he forgets to hide his feelings.

"So, then, Master is going to be safe."

"As long as he obeys and doesn't tell anyone who he really is, then yes."

"I feel a 'but' in there somewhere…" Stiles picked up suspiciously.

My signal smirk spread on my face at Stiles' words. With me, there's always a ' _but'_.

I raised my hand and run it through his silky locks, crashing them in my fist as I pulled him close in a brutal kiss. His breath hitched and his hands came up and clenched on my tunic when I deepened the kiss even more. When I released him, he was nothing but a quivering mess, his eyes hazy and cheeks flushed in that pink that suit him so much. _Shit, I want to fuck him…_

I brought my hand to his chin and forced him to look at me.

"Was this 'but' clear enough for you?"

He nodded before dropping his gaze on the ground. For some reason, though, I didn't feel as smug as I thought I would.


	5. Chapter 5

**HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!**

 **I hope you all had fun during** **Christmas and wish to you the very best for this year!** **It's been a while since the last update yet I hope this chapter makes up for that! As promised there is smut, yet the best parts are yet to come! XD Stiles gets a bit sad since Peter is a jerk to him again, but I promise, even though it doesn't look it, this fic is meant to have a happy ending! XD**

 **WARNING: This story contains many triggers such as slash, non-con, dub-con, mentions of rape, graphic sexual/violence descriptions, knotting, m-preg, Omega-verse, slavery, underage etc.**

 **RATING: M**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own any Teen Wolf characters.**

 **Chapter 5**

(Peter's POV)

The nights that followed, whenever I had time I would seek Stiles out. He had taken a liking to the desert so I would find him at the edge of the camp sitting on the sand and looking at the endless sand hills. He would always hear me before I had even made to approach. That's a fox's hearing for you.

When he first saw me after that encounter with Jackson, he blushed and made to stand up from where he sat, his lanky body tense and jittery, but I just pushed him back down and sat next to him. He kept moving fistfuls of sand around awkwardly, and if I'd let him on it he would have buried himself with it, so I started talking.

At the sound of my voice he froze, but after a few minutes, he loosened up and even tore his eyes from his hands to look at me.

I hadn't even realized what I was saying, the words just kept coming out. I told him about the desert, how it used to be the bottom of a sea thousands of years ago, and how giants had fought each other with the rocks and mountains that were left behind after the waters were gone, for more than a hundred human lifetimes, until everything had turned into sand and none was left to fight anymore. I told him how when the sandstorms moved the sand, sometimes bones came to the surface, bones so huge that could only belong to a giant.

"My father had some of those bones brought to the palace, and put them inside the throne room. He brought scholars and physicians to study them and put the skeletons together-"

I paused when I saw the amazed and utterly fascinated expression of the boy next to me. I could almost see him wagging his tail like an excited puppy and I chuckled.

"What is it? Why are you laughing? Will you not finish the story, sire?"

I made to answer, when I saw him turn his head towards the tents and a second later I too heard the clanging of swords on metal armors.

The head of the patrol approached me and since I was sitting he knelt before me respectfully.

"Forgive me for disturbing you, your Highness."

"What is it Liam?"

"Your presence is required."

"Return to your tent. Tomorrow I will tell you more." I said to Stiles before standing up.

††††

(Stiles' POV)

I had come to eagerly await for the time to meet with Peter every night. Sure some times he was busy and wouldn't come, but when he did, he would tell me all kinds of stories. From horrifying and bloody tales of his conquests, to astounding myths and legends of his country. I even learnt who that Gilgamesh guy he spoke about the other night was.

I know I must hate this man. He has done horrible things to Jackson… to me. He forced me to… do _that_ to him the very first day we met. I hate him… I should hate him… yet every time I look at him I feel this crazy pull towards him, this tingling feeling all over and I barely hold back the transformation.

Lost in such thoughts, I heard the crawling next to Peter and my instincts took over. I swiftly lashed my hand out before my brain had registered what I was doing. I grabbed the snake midair, the second it jumped out of the sand ready to bite and slashed it with my claws.

When my instincts were satisfied, I came to realise my ears and fangs had come out as well… in front of Peter's surprised eyes.

"I-I'm not…this isn't…" I tried to say, my voice failing me as dread crept into my soul. It was over. I had been found out.

Peter's eyes were unreadable as he raised his hand. I fell onto my butt thinking I would be struck and shut my eyes tightly. Only I wasn't.

His fingers grazed the base of my ear and my eyes shot open. Peter was looking at me amused, as if it was a normal occurrence for his slaves to turn out to be shape-shifters.

Suspicion came over me, and I pulled away, raising my hands to cover my ears protectively.

"Relax, this isn't the first time I see those cute little ears of yours."

I felt my face heat up. He had known?! Since when? And… my ears definitely were not cute!

"…Don't you think I'm disgusting?"

"Well I cannot say I've met a fox demon before, but disgusting wouldn't be among the words I'd use."

 _Fox demon?_

"Is…is that what I am? A fox demon?"

Peter raised an eyebrow at my words.

"You didn't know that?"

I shook my head negatively.

 _How was I supposed to know…?_

"Fox demons are spirits with superior intelligence, long life and magical powers. Usually, though, they have to be at least a hundred years old to be able to take on human form." Peter gave me a strange look.

"I am not that old!" I exclaimed shocked. Not long ago I was only a child, even if I don't know my actual age.

"I know that, idiot." Peter chuckled at me. "Obviously one of your parents was human. Same as me."

His words hit base and I stared at him incredulously.

"Y-you are like me?"

He grinned at my words and suddenly his teeth elongated and dark brown fur covered part of his face. He closed his hand into a fist and then opened it dramatically, showing off his claws. His eyes flashed red and a whine threatened to escape my throat.

"Indeed. Azari have been mating with forest folk for many generations. Being a shape-shifter is quite common in my country. Yet, a fox demon… that is rare even for Azaran."

I was speechless. So, I wasn't a freak after all. There were others like me.

"W-what are you?" I managed to utter still dumbfounded.

"A wolf. Can't you tell?" Peter asked me smugly. Again, how was I supposed to know?! It's not like I've ever seen one before.

His fangs and claws retracted and his eyes melted back to that forest green as he became serious again. "I've understood being a shape-shifter is rather uncommon in Emmeria. How did you manage to hide it for so long?"

I bit my lip frustrated. I knew he was going to ask that.

"My fangs and ears come out when I am upset or excited. I realised that early on, so all I had to do was keep my feelings in check. _If I feel nothing, they won't come out._ Or, so I thought."

I wasn't looking at Peter but I waited for him to make fun of my reasoning. I knew it didn't make much sense anyway.

"Don't suppress it when I'm around. That poker-face isn't cute at all."

Again, that word. How can a man be cute…? I turned and looked at Peter who had laid back on the sand with his arms supporting his head and his eyes closed.

It was the first time to see this huge man in such a vulnerable position. I leaned a bit closer and let my eyes run over the dark locks of short brown hair, follow the curves of his chiseled cheekbones, and take note of how strong his jawline seemed. His biceps were tight as he had folded his arms behind his head, causing the well-developed muscles to strain the fabric. This was clearly the body of a seasoned warrior, nothing like anyone I had seen.

"You done checking me out?"

"What?" I snapped out of my trance and blushed lightly at what his words implied. "No, I simpl-ah!"

Suddenly opening his eyes, Peter grabbed my hand and pulled me down, flipping us on the soft sand so that I was pinned underneath him. My eyes widened as my legs were pushed apart and I felt his erection on my abdomen making me bite back a gasp.

The prince didn't miss my reaction and gave my neck a playful nip before his tongue soothed the sensitive flesh. He moved a bit lower and did it again. Then lower and lower until my whole neck was littered with red marks.

The nips stung…yet the soft tongue that soothed my skin almost made me purr every time. Almost. This wasn't right. I was supposed to be in love with Jackson! Being with his enemy like this, as part of the deal, yes, I could take, yet why did I draw pleasure from it?! I wasn't supposed to enjoy this… _he_ wasn't supposed to let me enjoy this…

A gasp was forced out of me and my eyes which I did not remember closing shot open, my whole body writhing, tearing up from the power of the stimulus. I shot Peter a look that was meant to convey my anger at what his was doing, yet the man simply laughed and rubbed at the base of one of my tails again, with the same result.

"S-stop that! Don't… don't touch my tai-Ah~" I hurried to cover my mouth and stifle the moan that came out but he knew.

"Rubbing here excites you, huh?" he snorted and gave my left ear a nip. The reaction was instant. I felt my body shrink and fur covered my skin as I was transforming.

 _This can't be happening!_

††††

(Peter's POV)

I looked at the small creature under me astonished. In mere seconds, in the place of the human, well, mostly-human boy, now lay a small brown fox quivering, tails wagging crazily trying to get free from the clothes he used to wear.

I brought a hand up and helped him untangle himself from the garment. His ears were drawn back in fear and he kept scenting the air, throwing anxious glances towards the soldiers' tents.

"Hey." He turned his eyes to me and if a fox had the ability to look furious, this was it. "I guess I got you a bit _too_ excited." I chuckled and the fox huffed at me and rolled his eyes.

Stiles padded away from the clothes and let his paws sink in the sand, before he started jumping around. After that, he fell on it belly up and started rolling around, his fur glowing from the sand that got stuck on it.

I was looking at him dumbfounded before I got a fistful of sand and threw it directly on his snout, earning a surprised whine from Stiles.

He turned and looked at me and I could see the mirth in his purple eyes as he turned and started digging in the sand, using his back legs to throw it all on me.

"You little…" I started but that only served in getting sand into my mouth. I grabbed Stiles by his tails and scooped him up, earning a whimper from him as I tossed him on the soft sand in front of me, and the proceeded to thoroughly rub his lower belly, earning purrs from him.

I brought my hand on his head and he pushed against my palm softly before taking it into his mouth and nipping at it playfully as he gazed right at me daringly.

Stiles' ears flickered and he smelled the air. He jumped on his feet and run behind me, curling into himself as he did so. Before I could ask him what he was doing, I heard the approaching patrol so I stood up, gathering Stiles' discarded clothes as I did so.

"This way." I ordered in an inaudible whisper which I was sure the fox wouldn't miss, and made my way through the tents, careful to remain unseen. If Stiles was discovered and loose tongues carried the news to my Father, he wouldn't care less if the boy was really the lost heir. Gerard hated leaving loose ends.

With Stiles on my tracks, we slipped inside my tent unnoticed. It shouldn't have been that easy to do that. I'd have my guards beat out some serious sweat for this lack of vigilance.

I walked towards my make-shift bed and threw Stiles' clothes on it turning to the fox.

"The hour is late and you are still weak. Change back and go rest."

For a few seconds nothing happen. Then the hazel fox jumped on my bed and kicked the clothes off of it, throwing me a pleading glance. That's when it dawned on me.

"You cannot control your shift, can you." I stated rather than asked and Stiles nodded. I shook my head in mock-exasperation. "You really are useless."

I ignored the hurt look in the fox's eyes and I started taking off my clothes, putting on some loose pants -on second thought- before getting under the comforter. Stiles jumped down from the bed and started moving around the clothes he had thrown down previously, trying to make some kind of nest. Somehow, I didn't want him to sleep on the floor.

"Hey, boy." I said and he turned his huge eyes my way. "Come here."

Stiles kept his eyes on mine for a few seconds and then jumped on the bed silently, as if he weighed nothing. He padded to the other side of the bed and got under the covers, giving me another unreadable look before curling into himself.

††††

(Stiles' POV)

I'd never slept in my fox form before. The few times I had let my control slip and ended up stuck in that form, I remained hidden waiting it out, always too frightened to fall asleep in case I was discovered. But this time, I felt safe to sleep like this. Peter knew what I was and it felt… comforting. Maybe it was because he was like me. Or because he told me I could be myself when he was around. It definitely wasn't because I liked him or anything like that. It was just good to know I wasn't alone you know?

My eyes opened slowly, and my sleep-hazed mind registered it was still dark outside. I flexed my hands and realised I was back to my human form. It should be fine to get back to my tent now. I made to sit up from the bed but a huge arm suddenly snaked around me and held me where I was. I froze, thinking I had disturbed Peter's sleep but, his heartbeat was steady and slow, indicating he was still out. Great, he thought I was his pillow. How was I supposed to go back now? If he woke up and saw I was still here he might get angry…

I waited a few minutes, until I felt the arm around me relax, and I tried once again to move away. Why would I think this time would be any different?

Before I could even move an inch, Peter pulled me flash against his body and a low growl reverberated from his chest and through my back. That was my cue to finally stay still. My ears popped out and flattened on my head the moment Peter growled, my heartbeat picking up. I still hadn't seen Peter's other form, and I had reasons to believe it wasn't as small as mine.

After a few minutes I finally calmed down and relaxed against the warmth on my back. Matching my breathing with Peter's, I finally fell asleep.

††††

(Peter's POV)

I woke up and pulled my pillow further to me, nuzzling its hair lazily… wait… my pillow doesn't have hair.

My eyes cracked open and I realised I was nuzzling Stiles' nape, holding him pressed against my chest. The boy must have turned sometime during the night. Which only meant…

I let my hand slide on the boy's naked torso. I was right… his skin was as smooth as silk. And he smelled so good. My scent had mingled with his as we slept and now Stiles smelled like me. That thought made my wolf growl content. That's how it should always be. The boy was mine to mark, to claim, to knot…

Wait, did I seriously just think that? I don't want to knot the kid, he isn't my mate. It must be because my heat is drawing near. Yes, that's probably it. But, I can indulge myself can't I. The boy is my slave after all.

My hand kept caressing Stiles' skin as I leaned in and licked his neck. My fingers ghosted over his nipples a few times, stimulating the small nubs, making them perk up. I let my hand wander lower and I was pleased to see the boy was starting to get interested, even in his sleep. What a deliciously lewd body.

I cupped him and slowly pumped my hand up and down, stopping a moment to tease the head with my thump. A low groan left Stiles' lips and his eyes fluttered open sleepily.

I sank my still human teeth on the spot I had been sucking on the boy's neck, effectively waking him completely.

"Ngh~" Stiles' cried and suddenly stiffened as he registered where my hand was.

"Finally, you're awake. You had me wondering about my skills." I whispered near Stiles' ear earning a tremble from him before I resumed pumping his shaft.

"No…ah…w-what are you doing?"

By now Stiles' was panting, his cheeks and ears flushed that pretty pink. It made me want to devour him… though I settled for sucking his earlobe and relishing at the shiver I caused.

I felt my fangs elongate at Stiles' sweet, wanton moans and whimpers. I pulled my cock out of my pants and wrapped my other arm around the boy, pulling him flash against me, my hard shaft pressing against the crack of Stiles' ass. The mere thought drove me crazy.

I began grinding against him as I stroked him, bringing my free hand up to tease his nipples. Only now did I notice that Stiles' ears had popped out and his fangs were biting into his lower lip, trying to stifle his moans.

My wolf didn't like that. Before I could stop myself, my fanged mouth snapped closed on Stiles' neck, right at the junction with the shoulder, and bit hard, hard enough to draw blood. Stiles cried and came hard all over his chest and my fist, shaking violently.

Just the sight of him was almost enough to push me over the edge… almost.

I sped up my grinding against Stiles, all the while lapping my tongue soothingly over the huge mark I had left on his skin. Stiles' soft mewling sounds finally threw me over the edge and I climaxed, spilling all over the boy's ass.

Both of us were left panting and tangled together as we came down from our orgasms, before I finally unwrapped my arms from around Stiles' slender frame and left the bed.

I wiped myself clean with a wet cloth and dressed in my usual clothes without sparing a glance at Stiles' direction.

"We leave within the hour." I only said and left the tent.

††††

(Stiles' POV)

I was shocked and speechless. It was the first time I had been touched so intimately and brought to climax by another man. It felt… it would be a lie to say I didn't like it. But, the way Peter had upped and left… it made me feel used.

Oh, come on, what used? I am not Peter's lover. I'm a slave… a toy. That was the deal. I would do anything Peter wanted whenever he wanted it, and in return, Jackson would be safe.

That's all there was to this. I could understand it. Honestly, I knew my place. But that didn't stop me from curling to a ball beneath the sheets and wishing I had never made that stupid deal.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi guys! As always, sorry for the wait, I'm still figuring out how I want things to go later in the story so I hope you like how it progresses. A new character is introduced towards the end (one of my absolute favourites!3) and there is of course some Steter action (but not too much). Enjoy!**

 **WARNING: This story contains many triggers such as slash, non-con, dub-con, mentions of rape, graphic sexual/violence descriptions, knotting, m-preg, Omega-verse, slavery, underage etc.**

 **RATING: M**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own any Teen Wolf characters.**

 **Chapter 6**

(Stiles' POV)

Four days had passed and there had been no sign of Peter. Since I was deemed healed enough, I was told to walk with the rest of the slaves during daytime as we marched through the dry desert beneath the relentless sun. We would only stop to rest twice, and then again to make camp for the night. I was assigned, along with others, to give out the food and water portions to the warriors, which had earned me a lot of groping by the Azari. Normally, I wouldn't have cared since I was quite used to such situations as I was growing up, but for some reason, I didn't want the scent of those men to rub off on me. It only served to weaken what little trace of Peter's scent was still left on me. It made the fox agitated and upset.

And… even though I kept going to the outskirts of the camp every night, Peter wouldn't come. Well, it wasn't like he had any reason to come anyway. I should be relieved my services weren't needed.

I glanced down at my feet when my thoughts finally came to a halt, and I realised I had covered them with fistfuls of sand I had been moving around unconsciously. I chuckled softly and started trailing shapes on the sand with my fingers, until I realised someone was approaching.

I turned around hectically, even though I knew it wasn't Peter. His scent and heartbeat would have given him away. Instead, I smelled Jackson, just before he appeared from behind the tents.

At first he didn't notice me, but then I made to stand up and the movement caught his eye. He gave me an unreadable look and then he stomped towards me, looking… angry?

"Master…" I began but Jackson grabbed my arm and pulled me behind a carriage, out of sight. His grip tightened even more and his eyes hardened as he spoke.

"I've been watching you. What do you think you're doing?"

"I-I don't understand…" I muttered confused but that seemed to anger him even more.

"You let them _touch_ you. The Azari. You let them do whatever they want and you don't say a word."

My eyes widened at that and I lost my words. What was he saying? Couldn't he see that as a slave I had no say in the matter?

"Do you like it? Being touched like that." Jackson pressed on furious and I averted my head ashamed. Bad move. I shouldn't have done that.

Jackson's eyes widened at the bruise-like bite mark Peter had given me _that_ morning. He had used his fangs and it still felt raw and tender to the touch. It made me _remember_.

"What the hell. So it's true. You've become Peter's whore."

Why… why would Jackson speak to me like this?! It hurt… hearing him saying such words.

But, it angered me too. It was for his sake that the deal had been made in the first place, even if Jackson didn't know that. And why was he acting like this anyway? He has never looked at me the way I did. He doesn't get to tell me who to sleep with. Not when he's never cared before.

I wore my best poker face and gazed at Jackson apathetically.

"So what?" I muttered lowly and he visibly flinched at my words.

"Stiles, I know you! You would never do such a shameful thing willingly. He forced you into this. But you don't have to do what that barbarian says for much longer. Not if he is gone."

Jackson put a small vile in my hand and I gave it a wary glance.

"What is this?"

"Poison, I think. I found the tent of that sorcerer who killed my parents. He has some nasty stuff but this was inside a small case. I bet it's deadly. We will kill that bastard, and once he is dealt with, we will slip away through the commotion."

I practically threw the vile back to Jackson shocked even at the thought. My fox was whining inside my head at the mere idea of…

"I am _not_ killing Peter!" I hissed and pulled my arm away from Jackson's grip.

"Why? He destroyed our home, he killed my parents, he's been nothing but cruel to you! He has conquered, killed and sold to slavery hundreds of innocent people. If someone deserves death, it's him."

I knew Jackson's words were true. Peter has done really terrible things. He is selfish, and cruel, and…

Jackson saw my uncertainty and pressed on.

"Stiles, listen to me. I would never ask such a thing of you but it must be done, if I can ever hope to avenge my parents." He put the vile in my palm and closed my fingers around it. "I trust you Stiles. I know you will do this for me-"

My nostrils flared and I caught the scent I had been waiting for the past few days… he couldn't have come at a worse time. How long had he been here? How much had he overheard? I had been so caught up in what Jackson was saying that I never heard Peter approach.

I pulled my hand away from Jackson's and made to turn and leave but he wouldn't let go.

"Where are you going?"

"I must go back. Let us talk of this another time."

The change is Jackson's expression was instant. He glared at me with contempt and his voice turned icy cold.

"You're going back to get _fucked_ by him you mean. By that murderer."

I turned and gave Jackson a serious look.

"You said Peter sold to slavery hundreds of innocent people, but slavery is allowed in Emmeria, too. I was raised a slave and taught not to have a will of my own, only to obey. I was taught how my master's words are absolute."

Jackson's eyes lit at that.

"Then you will do what I have asked you to, won't you Stiles?"

I shook my head at his words. Did he really understand what I meant? After I made that deal, everything had changed.

"My master now is Peter."

 _Slap…_

I held my rapidly reddening cheek too shocked to even move.

Jackson was furious… he had never hit me before. Well, I have always obeyed his every word up until now.

"You ungrateful slut! _I_ chose to buy you from the slave market that day. _I_ kept you clothed and fed and treated you better than the slave you were. You think I didn't know about your little crush on me? I kept you close even knowing that. But since I didn't satisfy your needs, you went and spread your legs for that easterner!"

He grabbed my shirt and threw me on the sand, before falling on top of me, immobilising me under him.

"So, it should be fine if I give you what you've always wanted." Jackson hissed and his lips crushed on mine, biting more than kissing.

I didn't want this. This wasn't the Jackson I knew. Why on earth was he acting like this?!

I turned my head away panicked. It felt… wrong.

"No stop this! Let me go! Jackson!" I hissed pushing at him but he slapped me again and ripped my shirt open, palming my skin roughly.

Suddenly, his weight was gone and I opened my eyes which I didn't remember shutting to see Jackson pinned under a monstrous brown animal. _A wolf_ … my mind supplied me numbly and then I got it.

Peter snarled and growled at Jackson's face, his jaw snapping a bit too close to his throat.

I scurried on my feet as quickly as I could.

"Don't hurt him! Please!" I pleaded and Peter's red eyes turned to me… a whine escaped me and my ears popped out, as I instinctively bared my neck to Peter. He seemed to like that. He turned his head my way and sniffed my neck, nuzzling his mark.

He turned to Jackson abruptly and roared at him one last time before he removed his claws from his chest. He then turned to me and growled lowly before padding away. Unsure, I followed after him.

††††

(Peter's POV)

My heat had started. It had been four days. Four days of barely managing to stay in control and not shift every five minutes. I had kept away from every possible trigger, letting my generals handle most matters as I waited it out. They understood. Some of them were shifters themselves so they knew how irritating mate-less heats could get. Fucking everything that moves was not enough and the need to breed was so strong that if I wasn't careful I could end up knocking up every female that came within a five-meter radius from me. That would be such a hassle to deal with afterwards, so I did my best to keep a cool head. I could screw whomever I wanted _after_ my heat was over, when I could actually control myself.

Had there been a mate to breed, then it would be much easier. For shape-shifters, mates are for life. It means that you actually feel love towards your mate. But I am incapable of such an emotion. To me, having a mate is a liability, a weakness enemies can take advantage of.

My feet carried me around the camp, trying to keep my mind occupied with trivial tasks, but I somehow ended up strolling along the edge of it, suddenly wondering if Stiles would be there. That is when I heard it.

" _What is this?"_

" _Poison, I think. I found the tent of that sorcerer who killed my parents. He has some nasty stuff but this was inside a small case. I bet it's deadly. We will kill that bastard, and once he is dealt with, we will slip away through the commotion."_

Stiles was talking with that prick, Jackson. And apparently they were plotting my assassination. I growled low in my chest at what my wolf perceived as betrayal from the boy. My mind was sensible though. It was only natural that he would want to get away and be with his beloved Jackson. Too bad for them I had found out.

" _I am not killing Peter!"_

At that, my growling seized. There was no uptick in Stiles' heartbeat when he said that. Hearing him actually refuse to obey Jackson made my wolf smug with pride. I had finally won over that prick.

Jackson kept trying to convince Stiles, but suddenly the boy's heartbeat picked up. He had noticed me.

" _I must go back. Let us talk of this another time."_

Stiles' words angered Jackson, who spat one insult after another. Because that's what he really was; a two-faced coward who wouldn't even get his own hands dirty and face me like a man in a straight fight a second time because he knew he'd lose. Even his scent could tell me that. I can only guess what words he had said to Stiles that made him try to kill himself that time.

Suddenly, I caught the faint spike of arousal; and it wasn't from Stiles. The prick was getting it up as he imagined the things Stiles did with me.

My wolf was pacing irritated under my skin, perceiving that as a challenge of claim over the boy. Again that thought. Stiles isn't my mate. Fuckin' heat.

" _My master now is Peter."_

My eyes widened at Stiles' words. But my surprise didn't last long. I heard the sound of a slap and then a thud as a body hit the sand. After that, all thoughts of control flew out of my mind as the wolf took over.

 _Mine_ … the wolf growled in my head and I fell on all fours as my bones broke and rearranged themselves under my skin, completely giving in to the shift.

In mere seconds I covered the distance between me and the pair and launched against Jackson shoving the petty human off of Stiles.

 _Rival…Threat…_ was all that echoed through my mind and I bared my fangs at the male beneath me, forcing him into submission. I am the alpha and my claim on my mate was challenged… or so the wolf perceived it as and I was about to sink my fangs into Jackson's windpipe and be done with him.

But then, Stiles' voice broke through the wall of pure instincts that drove me and my human side reacted.

 _Mate…_ I thought as I looked at the boy, who merely bared his neck submissively accepting my authority.

 _Good mate…_ my wolf relished at Stiles' reaction and finally reassured my claim over him was safe, I removed my clawed paws from the rival's chest, signalling to my mate to follow. I had proved my dominance, and the boy was mine.

I led him to my tent and once inside, I managed to regain enough control over my body to partially shift into my human form.

I grabbed Stiles' arm with a clawed hand and tossed him on the bed. His scent was tinted with an acidic spike, his fear rolling off of him in waves.

I fell on top of the boy and towered above him, my nose registering other males' scents on him. My anger roared anew and I growled deep in my chest. Stiles flinched, retreating further into the pillows, holding his hands out between us, as if to keep me away. _He is afraid of me._

 _Why? I was not the one to hurt him. I protected him._

I shoved Stiles' flailing arms away with ease and my claws ripped the remnants of the boy's shirt that still carried strongly the rival's scent. I buried my nose in his soft neck, rubbing my scent on him instead. He should only smell of me… _always_.

My tongue lapped at the creamy column as I held him down by his hands. He didn't resist. A small hitch in his breath and then his body went lax under me. The smell of fear slowly dissipated, replaced by the musky scent of arousal.

Mate knew now he was safe with me. Mate knew he was mine. Mine to knot… mine to breed…

I pressed my fangs down on the mark I had given him mere days ago, breaking the skin, stating my claim on the boy. Now all would know he was off limits.

A whimper escaped the boy's rosy lips and I soothed the wound lapping my tongue on it softly.

When I tore away to look at him, I saw his fangs and ears had come out, his scent of arousal strong in the air.

My hand trailed his skin and reached down to his pants, pleased to see the evident bulge straining the fabric. My own arousal twitched and the boys' nostrils flared as he picked up on it. His pupils were blown wide as he gazed at me with half-lidded eyes and parted lips, breath slightly laboured.

I leaned in and caught Stiles' bottom lip between my fangs, pulling slightly before kissing him deep, and hard, tasting blood. I have no idea what has happened to me. I have not been myself since I came across this kid. Thoughts of owning him, desires to ruin him… such things have plagued my dreams since my heat began.

 _I need to… I need-_

"Apologies, your Highness. A messenger from the citadel has arrived."

My head snapped to the opening of the tent, snarling at the intruder before registering Liam, captain of the guards. He had the prudence to remain outside, and bare his neck to me, so that my heated wolf would be set at ease.

With much effort I managed to detach myself from the bed and tried to revert back to my human form. I couldn't. I had let my wolf come too close to the surface. The adamant control I took so much pride in was crumbling like sand castles just because of a fox!

 _Damn!,_ I thought enraged and sank my claws in my leg. The pain forced my mind to clear as it surged through me, enabling me to push back the wolf who clawed and turned under my skin eager to return to the boy. At that thought, I glanced down at Stiles; and my eyes widened in shock.

There upon his neck, bruised and bloody lay the newest bite I had given him. Yet, that was not the source of my distress. What made me want to punch myself was the faint red circle around the bite-marks. I was so much lost to my instincts, that I had actually given Stiles a pre-mating bite.

 _Now, this is going to be troublesome_

††††

I pushed aside the opening of the tent where the supposed messenger awaited me. I stopped on my tracks however, when I registered the familiar scent, one I hadn't encountered for three whole years. My brother's.

"What are _you_ doing here?" I almost growled at the cloaked figure on the other side of the tent.

An arm came up to remove the hood that covered his head and broody green eyes met mine in a scowl.

"Words of your heat have reached the citadel. I am here to take over until you're yourself again. Father is disappointed."

"Is he ever not!" I huffed mirthlessly.

Derek. Our father's favourite. His _legitimate_ heir.

"How come he sent you of all people? Is he not afraid you might hurt yourself leaving your precious study room to come all the way out here? Many a thing could happen in the desert, brother."

Derek ignored my attempt at provoking him as he knew his skills with the sword were not something to be taken lightly.

"Father has heard of your transgressions in Emmeria. Word has it the heir yet lives."

A moment of panic caught me before I realised who Derek was referring to.

"Indeed. His combat skills _fascinated_ me so I decided to offer him a place in my ranks. He bears the mark now." I managed not to cringe my teeth at my own words. Speaking highly of Jackson left a bitter taste on the tongue.

"That was unnecessary. Father won't be pleased with that. It looks to me you're doing your best to lose his favour."

"Well, I already know how the mighty Gerard thinks of his _bastard_ and it is of no concern to me, dear brother. As long as I win his battles for him, it is enough."

"And how is it going to be now that his great expansion plan is over? What will redeem you in his eyes if not your skills in battle?"

I had no answer to that.

Derek sighed and ran a hand through his raven hair before turning his look away. I took a moment to observe how much my brother had changed in the span of the three years I had not seen him. I left behind a boy who had barely reached puberty and now I had something _almost_ resembling a man standing before me. I resisted the urge to snort at the thought. Derek had grown quite a bit.

Our father had tried to instil hatred between us, yet Derek never came to resent me -or trust me that is- and I didn't think much of his abilities to consider him a threat so I grew to tolerate him. Yet I couldn't help but envy the different way he'd treat his heir, compared to the disdain he showed to me.

"You've been gone for a long time, Peter. Much has changed in your absence."

"As one would expect Derek." I taunted lightly just to see his scowl deepen.

"I am to wed Kate."

"News that lift the heart then. I recall your expressing such a desire in the past."

"Maybe a long time ago. As I've said, things have changed."

That serious tone got me slightly interested in my little brother's affairs.

"Kate does have a certain talent in manipulation. I can see why Gerard likes her for your bride. They are quite alike."

Derek's eyes turned to me and under that permanent scowl of his I thought I saw fear.

"I agree… I was hoping you'd help me do something about it."

There it was. That subtle panic in his voice, yet nothing else would show it. Derek always wanted to look tough, no matter that in reality he was a shy, brooding book-lover who -had father allowed it- would never have picked up the sword. Kate would surely ruin him.

 _Not that I care._

"I am surprised, brother. Before I left you were so infatuated with her you'd bend over backwards had she asked you to." Derek's cheeks flushed lightly at my remark. "What could possibly cause such a change of heart, I wonder."

"She… has done things. And she has father's ear."

"That hardly comes as news."

"No, well, she is under the impression you plan to murder father and seize the throne for yourself. She made it sound like you'll even kill me to eradicate any threat to you. Father seems to think she's right."

"Aw, are you worried for me, brother dearest?" I teased again but my voice had an edge to it. "Or yourself?"

Derek didn't reply. His silence has always been stronger that his words.

I huffed annoyed at him. This was dragging too long and my wolf was getting agitated again. I turned and pulled the opening of the tent, yet paused just before leaving.

"Had I wished for it, you'd have been dead already."

††††

When I got back to my tent, Stiles was gone. A wise move. I was clearly incapable to control myself around him. I even gave him the first mark for fuck's sake.

I angrily took off my clothes and sat heavily on my bed exhausted. This heat was taking a lot out of me. I pulled the covers over my body and sank among the pillows. Instantly, Stiles' scent surrounded me and my wolf whined, pacing under my skin. I had unintentionally created a link between us… one I would see that it was left to fade away.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey guys, quite a long time since the last update, apologies for that. It got quite busy with uni and exams that I just couldn't find it in me to sit down and put all my random thoughts in order. I do hope to be able to post the next one quickly this time and not keep pushing it back.**

 **So, for this one, I must admit I have my doubts as it is a filler chapter, and on top of that, two of the most despised characters the series has ever seen are intoduced. There is also some further insight of what exactly a pre-mating bite does to those involved, as well as some minor action (do forgive how small it is!) I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint much, and again, I am sorry for how long it took to update this fic!**

 **WARNING: This story contains many triggers such as slash, non-con, dub-con, mentions of rape, graphic sexual/violence descriptions, knotting, m-preg, Omega-verse, slavery, underage etc.**

 **RATING: M**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own any Teen Wolf characters.**

 **Chapter 7**

(Derek's POV)

So long since I saw Peter last. Three whole years. And Peter isn't the brother I recall. Sure we were never close, yet, back then, his eyes lacked that coldness, his grin was more playful than murderous.

I remember the day our father ordered Peter to make a choice; either to leave with the troops and conquer in his name, or die a death fit for a worthless bastard, or so he had put it. That was the day my brother closed up. Despite always obeying out father's commands, for some reason, Peter didn't take that order well and had gone wild. He bellowed he didn't need to prove his worth to Gerard, be gone for years just for the greed of someone else.

Father would have none of that, though. He punished Peter by tying him to a pole and have him publically whipped. He made quite the spectacle out of him, as even mere peasants had been allowed to watch, instead of keeping the event among the nobles of the court. I doubt Peter will ever forgive him that.

Normally, the wound on my brother's immense pride would be more serious than whatever damage a mere whip could do; see, he is a shifter and heals faster than humans such as I. Yet, Gerard decided to torment him and had wolfsbane spread on the gashes; not enough to kill him, but enough to slow his healing process. For two days Peter's pained howls echoed through the courtyard all the way into the palace, until Gerard grew sick of it and threw him in the dungeons for another month.

I, barely twelve at the time, had tried to visit him once yet Peter wouldn't respond to me. He just sat there in a corner, facing the wall with deadly pale face and wide, horrified eyes, mumbling to himself.

When he stopped eating completely, Gerard went to see him. I never learned of what transpired between them at that time, or what was that had driven my brother so close to insanity, but after he was released, his gaze was disconnected and distant.

That very day, Peter began preparations for the campaign, and after a fortnight, he was gone. Once he was out of the picture, Gerard crowned me prince and heir, with all the formalities, as everyone had expected. Even if Peter was the eldest, he was illegitimate and his claim on the throne weaker than mine. One could only wonder how I managed to come this far without being assassinated by him, considering how fickle and vindictive he could be.

For the next years, I was taught the ways of the sword, politics, and in short everything I was expected to know as the future king. But I was not allowed to openly practise art which I loved, so I did it in secret, keeping my sketches in the bottom of a chest in my room, along with all the books Peter had given me over the years. Every time he would claim he'd grown bored of them and I was free to have them if I wanted, and I would take them pretending not to notice they were brand new.

Tonight's meeting, I had expected to… well, I've no idea what I expected. Three years was too much time for a fragile relationship such as ours. The brother I recall, seemingly uninterested in me yet always subtly noticing things about me, was gone. This one no longer cared. All the blood he had shed had stained him too. I can expect no help from Peter.

††††

(Peter's POV)

Azaran, the land of mysterious shapeshifters, majestic towers and hanging gardens. Well, if one wants to be poetic about it. To me, Azaran is the epitome of contrasts. One can either be extremely poor or disgustingly wealthy, free man or slave, human or shifter. You can be one thing today, yet something else tomorrow, as long as you murder the right person or swindle your way out of your miserable life. Azaran is the land of opportunity. The Jewel of the East, as the mages of the Citadel fancy to call it.

And here I am, riding towards it alone, no proud armies behind me, no one to announce that the bastard prince has finally returned a conqueror, only my weary stallion as my escort and the scorching sun as witness. That is the true reason father ordered my return ahead of the armies. To have Derek lead them through the gates, _his_ name upon the peasants' lips, mine forgotten. No matter, the very warriors who fought the battles would spread the truth in time. Gerard's attempt to snatch the glory I have earned was foolish.

I pulled the reins as I reached the gate, five guards standing in front of it, blocking my entering.

"Give way."

One of them spat on the sands at his feet and gave me a mocking look.

"Under whose orders?"

So they don't recognise me. Have I changed that match in the span of three years? Impossible.

"Peter's, firstborn of the emperor. I have returned."

Instead of the immediate compliance, laughter followed my statement. My wolf roared at the insult.

"Indeed, and I am your mother the slave!" a different guard mocked and at that, I saw white.

My blade was out in a flash and the guard's head rolled off, landing next to my stallion's feet.

 _How dare they…_

I studied the petrified faces of the rest of them, all laughter frozen upon lips. Each of them saw their reflection within my red eyes, and knew their mistake; and that it was their last.

Seconds later four more heads joined their companion on the blooded sand, and my horse stepped on them as he had been trained to do in the battlefield, my wrath quenched at the sight. A gasp had my gaze drawn upwards, where two more guards stood upon the wall, horrified looks plastered on their faces at what had transpired.

My mouth, full of fangs now, let out a growl.

" _Open the fucking gate, or I will flay you myself."_

The gate slowly opened and I spurred my horse enraged.

 _Home sweet home…_

††††

(Gerard's POV)

"I've returned, _father_."

I didn't miss the underlying mockery in my bastard's words. I had hoped he'd have learned some respect these past years as he did my bidding, like the dog he is. But, as always, he's ready to bite the hand that feeds him.

"Seize him."

Instantly two of my guards were on him. Shifters of course. I wouldn't make the same mistake as three years ago, when he ripped the throat of the human guard that went to grab him. I had thought he'd go down easily. He always obeyed me, so I wasn't prepared. But not that time. That was when I finally saw his true colours. He'd kill me in an instant. Funny really, as he is yet again helpless at my feet.

"Is this how you welcome your _son_?" he growled as he knelt before me, his arms restrained and his eyes angry, but still arrogant.

"This is how I welcome the rabid dog who so gracefully beheaded five of my gate guards, not an hour ago. Absent reason I might add."

"Refusing to open the gate was reason enough."

"Did you state your name?"

"My manners are impeccable. You should know, since you taught me."

And yet he mocks.

"You overstepped. Ten whippings for each guard."

"Oh, you've grown soft, father. I never thought you cared so much for your subjects."

Insolent brat.

"I would not have the people think you're feral. Besides, a whip has proven to be what works best on you."

I nodded and the shifters began dragging Peter out of the audience hall. He growled and snapped his teeth at me before he disappeared through the door.

I clicked my teeth annoyed. What a troublesome burden. Given he was a good commander and strategist but I didn't want him to get any ideas about the throne. He was mothered by a slave, and I wouldn't bother taking him in if I had known my late wife was not barren after all. Talia died birthing Derek, but I had already acknowledged Peter. So I had to find new uses for him. But Derek is my true son.

"He is unstable, your Majesty." a sultry voice came from my left and my eyes met Kate's. The daughter of one of the wealthiest Houses of Azaran, the Argents, educated and well-bred at first sight, but quite cunning and ambitious on the inside. Derek is strong and clever, but doesn't care for the initiative. I used to worry for when he'd inherit my empire, but now, I know Kate will bring out his best qualities and help him in vital decisions.

"I wouldn't say unstable, only that he's grown used to having others obey him these past years and he's forgotten what he really is."

"I am quite sure he would have it remain so, my liege. If not directly, then by ensuring he is the only candidate left for the position."

"You've expressed your fears for Derek's life before, Kate. I promise you no harm will come to him. I already chose between the two, the day my legitimate son was born."

"I am glad to hear that." Kate smirked satisfied.

††††

(Peter's POV)

 _That fucking bastard!_ I thought as I made my way through the corridors towards my quarters. The whip lashes were still fresh yet I could feel them healing already. It wasn't the first time, and sure as hell wasn't going to be the last. It's just that… it's been three years… _three fucking years_ since he saw me. And the first thing he did was have me whipped! I should have expected such a welcome. Why was I even surprised? No matter what I did, I was just never good enough. Not like his _Derek_. Even though I am so much better.

I pushed some servants out of the way and entered my room. My hands itched, answering to my enraged thoughts. I grabbed the first thing I saw, a vase, and smashed it against the wall. Angry at myself for letting this get to me, I sat on the bed and ran a hand through my hair, trying to control my agitated wolf. Seeking distraction, my eyes flicked to my left, at the private garden that spread outside and the sound of running water from the fountains.

Azaran's reason for thriving despite being in the middle of the barren desert was the oasis around which it was built. The secret of its famous hanging gardens was the technique of pumping the water up through the palace floors. A marvel to behold, each floor had its own garden surrounding it, as well as ponds and fountains of crystal clear water. I remember I used to sit there and read for hours. I loved reading. Whenever a book left an impression on me I would give a copy to Derek. He was always bratty and spoiled so I thought perhaps reading would give him something else to do than being annoying. I've no idea if he ever ended up reading any of those books, though.

It's been years I read something that wasn't a casualty report or battle plans. Maybe this wasn't so bad. I've spent so much time away so it's natural to need some time to adjust. I stood up and shed the blood stained tunic off along with my pants and discarded the ruined garments on the floor for the servants to collect.

The sun had already set and the night chill began to settle in giving me goose bumps as I made my way through the garden towards the shallow pool in the middle. The water was cool and I welcomed it as it covered the burning, healing skin of my back.

I stretched and laid back against the wall spreading my arms along the edge, trying to relax a bit. There was no point in getting worked up over this shit. Father would do whatever he wished. I was but a necessary evil to him and when my heat ended and I could control myself again he'd have no reason to think twice about me.

I closed my eyes and let my head fall back against the edge, letting out a sigh. Only now did I realise how tired I felt. I should probably turn in for today. Riding for a whole day through the desert was no easy task even for a shifter such as I.

So lost was I to my thoughts and exhaustion that I failed to notice the dark shadow stalking me silently from a nearby plum tree. The direction of the breeze suddenly changed and I got the whiff of the intruder's beastly scent.

 _A Shifter?!_

I swiftly turned around, cursing my negligence for not keeping a weapon close.

However, I wasn't given time to think anything else as a huge black beast head-butted me while lapping its tongue furiously all over my face.

 _No way…_

"Laura?"

I chuckled amused, suddenly relieved I didn't have to deal with an assassin so soon after coming back. This was no shifter, after all.

"I didn't think you'd still be here, little one. Well, I can hardly call you little anymore." I said as I took in the huge black panther in front of me.

Laura was but a cub when she was sent as a peace offering, amongst other gifts, from a nearby kingdom, which soon fell under Azaran's rule. So much for a peace offering. That was about two months before I left, and even though I had kept and named her I never thought much of the little panther in all three years I was away. She still remembered me, though. This was… unexpected.

I pulled myself up and out of the pool, droplets of water slowly cascading down my skin, cooling rapidly and giving me goosebumps. I padded on the marble floor leaving wet tracks, with the panther on my tail, till I got back inside and reached for a towel, effectively wiping down my body before pulling up a pair of pants.

As I settled in the huge bed I flashed my eyes red momentarily at the beast next to me. Alphas are acknowledged by all races, human or not, so I was curious to see her reaction. The panther retreated quietly back to the gardens, though not before nudging her snout against my calf one last time.

How could she remember me after so many years? Surely, two months were nothing considering how young she was when I left. Though, I may be wrong. Maybe she recognised me as her Alpha back then and she thinks of me as pack. That's the reason she felt so at ease with me around, especially if she was left to think my room as her den during my absence.

The thought made me snort as I lay back, finally shutting my eyes and deciding to give into the tiredness.

††††

(Stiles' POV)

 _I am burning up._

I had been feeling off since yesterday, a bit tired and kind of listless, unable to focus on anything for too long. I felt like something was missing from me, making me restless and uneasy. By the evening, it felt like my skin was too tight and this pressure on my lower back was growing annoyingly persistent. Had I eaten anything bad? Unlikely. I shared portions with all the other slaves, so why was I the only one feeling sick?

I went to bed exhausted, hoping that I'd be better by morning. But of course that wasn't the case. When I woke up in the middle of the night, my skin was on fire, clothes drenched with sweat and the pain on my waist unbearable.

 _It hurts… so hot…_

I could only think of getting some air, so I pushed away the covers, only to discover that, on top of everything else, I was also painfully aroused. The heat and ache was so intolerable I hadn't even realised I had a hard-on.

 _This is growing ridiculous…_

Staggeringly, I tried to get on my feet only to fall after a couple of steps, my legs shaky and weak. That wasn't the worst, though. As I landed on my knees, I felt something warm trickling down between my legs.

On the verge of panic by now, I brought my hand down to trace the slick substance. What the hell was happening to me?!

Yet, as soon as my fingers brushed my thigh, I jolted whimpering, my skin too sensitive to the touch. Horrified, I understood where the slick was coming from, as my asshole gave a twitch, producing more of it.

 _Why is this happening to me? What am I supposed to do? I can't ask anyone about such a thing! Should I touch myself? If I do, will this stop?_

With my head filled with questions I hesitantly wrapped a hand around my manhood, sighing at the pressure. Stroking quickly hoping to end this soon, I leaned back against the edge of the makeshift bed behind me, biting on my lip to keep my voice back. This was not the first time I relieved myself, yet the intensity of it was new. It felt so good, but no matter how close I thought I was, it wasn't enough to make me come.

 _Like something is still missing_ …

Before I knew it, my fingers were tracing Peter's bitemark, and the reaction was instant.

My whole body tightened at the surge of pleasure the likes of which I'd never known before, my mouth dropping in a soundless scream. The heat that spread on my skin gradually disappeared as I came hard, the pressure on my waist gone as well after my ass produced enough slick to wet my clothes. Once I came down from the post-orgasmic bliss, I realised I felt cold. And lonely.

 _What the hell just happened? No, the question is, what the hell did Peter do?_

††††

(Peter's POV)

My eyes flashed red in the dark as I jolted awake, feeling my fangs elongate and claws sinking into the mattress, a reflex reaction at the sudden heat I felt. The feeling of an aroused Stiles set my body on fire, as well as excitement and pleasure that wasn't mine.

It took me a moment to realise what was happening and that revelation only served to make my dick pulse and harden in seconds. I'd never claimed anyone before, so as the bond I had accidentally created made Stiles a wet mess from want, it also took effect on me.

If only Stiles was here next to me right now… oh, the things I'd do to him would be obscenely lewd. I would grab him by the nape, hold him down and pound him hard into the mattress. I would enjoy how easily it would be to dominate the boy and have him do as I please. He would have no choice but to lay with his legs spread for me, moan brokenly at my every thrust, cry out my name between sobs as I'd take him apart. He would squeeze tight around me, utterly numb from the rough pleasure. I'd grow curious to see the faces he was making, so I'd turn him around, pin his arms above his head and thrust deeper still, drowning his cries with biting kisses, marking his skin, showing to everyone he's mated, only mine-

Completely lost in my fantasy, I furiously stroked my shaft, precome leaking out and thoughts of fucking Stiles raw turning me feral, clawing the bed as the feeling suddenly multiplied.

Maybe that meant that Stiles was also touching himself right now. Fuck, the thought alone brought me so close. It'd been only a day since I touched that soft skin, took in the boy's scent, tasted him…

I growled deeply, half wolfed-out at the intense feelings, my wolf clawing his way to the surface a little more with every tug on my shaft. It hurt, I should have come by now, but instead the swelling only grew worse. The pressure at the base threatened to throw me off the edge, but something was missing, driving me insane.

I tried picturing Stiles, how he was that time after I had touched him back in the camp. The dazed look in his eyes and the shudders of his body as I caressed him while chasing my own pleasure ratting crazed on his ass.

 _If only I had buried myself deep in him that time I would have saved myself from all this trouble. Shit…_

Suddenly, I felt the base of my cock swell more, and the pleasure intensified. This couldn't be happening. I have never sported a knot while jerking off! How is it even possible there is no one here to breed! My wolf must have taken the fantasies too seriously...

As I kept stroking, the knot grew larger and after a couple of minutes I finally began shooting my seed, relief spreading throughout my body as the tension left, leaving me drained. I gathered the strength to push myself back against the cushions, prepared to wait a while until my knot would be gone. I knew how this went, irregular orgasms designed to maximise the odds of breeding the mate. Too bad there wasn't some way to inform the knot _there is no mate currently available thus do go on and deflate already_!

Gods, this was annoying on so many levels. I didn't want any of this in the first place, how could I have gone and claimed a kid, no, the rightful heir of Azaran so to speak. It'll be hard enough to hide him from Gerard, with him smelling like me now. It will be like walking with a sign above his head saying _claimed by the prince so I'm important!_ Wait, why do I care if someone discovers who he is, I just need to fuck him once to get it out of my system and then I can get rid of him myself.

Yes, that's exactly what I'd do and be done with this madness for good.

Pleased with myself, I drifted off into a light slumber, occasionally startled by small orgasmic shocks while my knot went away. As I was finally about to fall asleep, I thought I could feel Stiles lying next to me, and I unconsciously draped an arm around my cushion, unable to tell dream from reality. All I could remember was falling asleep feeling annoyed… and lonely.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey guys, I'm alive and back with the new, slightly longer chapter! This time things between Stiles and Peter start moving and both of them begin to experience new emotions, so I hope you like the plot. A bit of angst from both of them and much more to come!**

 **WARNING: This story contains many triggers such as slash, non-con, dub-con, mentions of rape, graphic sexual/violence descriptions, knotting, mpreg, Omegaverse, slavery, underage etc.**

 **RATING: M**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own any Teen Wolf characters.**

 **Chapter 8**

(Melissa's POV)

I stood at the corner of the training field, eyes searching for my son among the warriors and heart thundering in my chest at the prospect of seeing my baby after so much time. They were so many that I lost hope of finding him, as I knew I wouldn't be able to recognise anything but his face.

Three years I've been away. Three years since I was chosen to accompany prince Peter to his journey of conquest. And now that I am finally back, everything seems the same, yet a bit different.

My boy, too, must be all grown up by now, almost a man. His father would have been so proud if he were still…

I sighed defeated and made to turn back, sparing a final glance towards the trainees, when a barking laughter made me turn towards a sparring party. I would know that sound anywhere.

And there he was. My sweet boy Scott. I couldn't help the tears that filled my eyes, my throat suddenly tight. I sat at a bench there, and for the next couple of hours just observed the training, my gaze never leaving Scott. His skin glowed from sweat and he was amazing with the sword, so skilful. Every time he was hit by someone, my stomach would clench, thinking how hard it must have been for him all these years.

Yet, he didn't look stern, or distant. Not like the warriors in Peter's army. These boys were happily bantering among each other while they practised, still untainted by the brutality of war. If it were up to me, I would make sure Scott remained so. Blacksmith, artisan, merchant… any other trade would have been a better choice. But slaves don't get to choose. Not for themselves, nor for their children.

Finally, at dusk, the commander dismissed the trainees, so I hurriedly stood up and waited for my son and his group. Once he came close enough, I couldn't hold myself back anymore.

"Scott! Baby!"

It shouldn't feel so good to see my boy turning his head my way like his life depended on it. He still remembered the sound of my voice.

He ran to me in record time, pushing his way through the others, squeezed me in the tightest hug, and everything was right again.

I squeezed back and ran my fingers through my son's sweaty locks, fresh tears running down my cheeks again. When he pulled away I let him go, eager to take a proper look at my baby's face.

"Mum! When did you get back?! How long have you been here?! You should have called out to me sooner, I would-"

I chuckled and the questions came to a halt, a goofy grin plastered on Scott's face as he looked at me.

"You've grown so well, baby." I managed to say through the tears and his ears blushed at my words. He always got happy when I praised him.

"I've missed you, mum." Scott quietly replied and grabbed my hand, eagerly dragging me along.

He didn't stop chatting even for a moment, talking about anything and everything that had happened while I was gone and he thought I should hear about. His life at the barracks, the training, the friends he'd made, details of a life he had made for himself and I knew nothing about.

And when he finished, he finally asked what he wanted to know the most.

"Tell me about prince Peter! How was it to follow him as he forced his way through kingdoms, to see him raid and conquer for the empire? Was he very brave? He was, wasn't he! He is the bravest! I want to be just like him! A hero to lead the warriors into battle without fear!"

I looked at Scott's excited face for a moment, contemplating my answer. I couldn't spoil it for him. I couldn't bring myself to tell my child how his idol looked like when consumed by his bloodthirst from the long years of slaughter. I couldn't tell him how easily he turned slaves out of the useful and corpses of the rest. I couldn't tell him all that. So, I said only the good. Half the truth isn't a lie… is it?

"Yes, baby, the prince was very brave. He fought and conquered so many lands for the sake of the empire. His strength and mightiness only grew with every battle. He is a hero."

"A hero…" Scott repeated in awe and I sighed. Innocent sweet Scotty. If only I had the power to keep you away from all that. How relieved I would be.

As we approached the little hut we used to live before I set out with prince Peter, Scott unconsciously tightened his grip. This used to be his home after all.

The families of the palace slaves were given their own little hut within the palace premises. However, from the day Scott joined the warriors in-training at the age of ten, I had been living alone in it, as it was mandatory that he stayed in the dorms with the rest of the boys. Since I left three years ago, no one had set foot in it and the state I had found it upon my return was almost horrendous. The dust was everywhere on the shabby curtains and mouldy duvets, and the air had grown stale and musty. I guess I should just be grateful it had not been given to another family in my absence.

I spent all day cleaning up and airing the place, having the young slave Stiles to help me diligently, obeying without protest. Such a good boy. I felt so sorry for him. To be chosen by prince Peter as a lover wasn't something to envy or wish for. It was common knowledge he always mistreated his partners before throwing them away once he lost interest. I would know, since I usually cleaned up the mess he left behind.

But, this time it seemed different. Prince Peter seemed to somewhat care for Stiles. At least in his own way. He even ordered me to take the boy in and look after him when we reached Azaran. I'm glad he did. From the little time I've spent with Stiles, I've realised he never had someone to care for him. I mean, Scott was born a slave, but at least he had me. Though, I'm sure Stiles' needs weren't what the prince was thinking when he gave that order. It is the fact that, by some cruel trick of fate, Stiles could be the legitimate heir of Azaran.

I knew the former queen. I was a wet nurse to her child. Stiles and that boy have the same beautiful eyes. _Her_ eyes. I know it in my heart that it's him. If the emperor learned of that, he would have him killed, and prince Peter knows it. Bringing him back was madness.

"Mum, there's someone inside. He is looking through the window."

My son's voice broke through my trail of thoughts and I smiled at him reassuringly.

"Don't worry honey. I'll explain everything."

††††

(Jackson's POV)

Hot and dusty. That is how I'd describe this horrible land if I had to put my disgust for it into words. Clothes sticking to the skin, as sweat was the normal state of the body, humid air and sandy wind -if any at all- burning the lungs and offering more of a discomfort rather than actual relief from the heat. This was Azaran.

A few hours ago as we entered through the gates, the warriors were welcomed like heroes by the people, who had already gathered along the main street holding laurels in their hands. Tan-skinned children ran along the army, possibly searching for their fathers, and women gave out flasks filled with water.

At the head of the line a dark haired man whose name I didn't know, straddling a brown horse led the way. Not Peter. In fact, Peter was nowhere to be seen. Not that I wanted to be anywhere close to that man. Not since I found out he is what the Azari call a _shape-shifter_ , a beast in human form.

I was attacked by him three nights ago, when I quarrelled with Stiles. Since I learned of the part Stiles played in my parents' death something changed in the way I see him. This time, too, I was so enraged with Stiles, that I was taken by surprise and had no time to defend myself. Not that I would have been able to do much. Peter's other form was huge, as much as deadly. I could feel his hot breath on my throat as he was about to sink his teeth in and end me. But Stiles stopped him. The beast actually listened to his pleads. This could prove useful to my plan. I might be able to use Stiles to get to Peter. Maybe the kid whoring himself to the easterner wasn't that bad.

However, my current situation wasn't what one could call ideal. I had accepted Peter's offer and joined his warriors' ranks, so apparently, from the moment we reached Azaran I was expected to actually stay in the barracks with the others. I thought that after those despicable tents in the middle of the desert, given my position as the prince of a foreign country, I would at least be provided with the proper accommodation as a royal prisoner or something. Needless to say this had not been the case.

The mere concept of privacy must have been unknown to the Azari, as I was crowded in a chamber with at least twenty other men, doomed to use the communal bath strictly twice a day, while forced to partake in exhausting physical training the rest of the time. That wasn't the most shocking thing I came across though.

Azari could become real chatter boxes when drunk, so they blabbered about a lot of things even to me, a foreigner. Though the country which I came from didn't really matter to them. Many had been recruited during the battles of Peter's army, so they knew enough of the Common Tongue, or even Emmerian.

Apparently, the creatures known as _shape-shifters_ where quite common in this barbarian land. Even some of the warriors I shared the room with were like that. Tigers, lizards, hyenas, coyotes, were but a few of the strange forms they could take. I also learned there were classes such as Alphas, Betas, Gammas, and Omegas.

In short, Alphas were natural born leaders and following orders didn't sit well with them, so they would rise through the ranks very quickly. They were quite strong, confident, and their eyes turned red when they shifted.

Betas were stronger than Gammas, but they both needed someone to lead them. Usually they would gather around an Alpha and do their best to impress him so that they won his favour. I had seen their eyes turn blue and golden when angry, and other animal traits appeared, too.

But the class I found the most pathetic, was the Omegas. They were ranked even lower than humans with regards to strength, and they could bear children regardless of gender. I was told that they were quite submissive, constantly in need of their mate's care and protection, and, when in heat, they would just want to be mounted all the time. Having such a weakling be born into a family was considered to be shameful, and they were sold to brothels mostly for the pleasure of the other classes. When I asked how the parents could tell if their child was an Omega, I was told that their eyes had various shades of purple tints, exotic really, that never changed even when they shifted.

Needless to say that the only person I knew of who had such peculiar eyes, was Stiles. But he wasn't a shifter, so I guess Peter's beast was simply attracted to that Omega-like trait of his, that's why he took Stiles in his bed. No matter. I could work with that. Peter would soon choke in his own blood… and _I_ would be there to see it.

††††

(Stiles' POV)

I looked curiously at the boy Melissa had brought with her. From what I had gathered it was her son and appeared to be close to my age. He looked very much like his mother. Both of them had this pretty bronze skin, and warm brown eyes. The words Peter had spoken to me the day we met flew back to mind.

 _You are Azari, boy._

How could I be? I looked so different. Peter must have been wrong. Though, I couldn't explain the fact that I understood bits and pieces of their language. Like what Melissa's son was now saying to me. I think he was telling me his name.

Hesitantly, I glanced at Melissa unsure. Did they wait from me to say something?

Melissa realised what I must have been thinking and she quickly said something to her son, who gave me a look as if he just found out I didn't know his language.

He turned to me again and touched his chest repeating his previous introduction more slowly.

" _Ne aldir Scott."_ He said and not knowing what else to do, I copied him.

" _Ne aldir Stiles."_

The look of pure excitement that lightened up Scott's face took me by surprise. Both Melissa and he smiled at me and I dropped my eyes to the floor embarrassed. I wasn't used to people being kind to me. Only Jackson ever treated me like he cared for me, but now I knew even that had come to end.

Was I supposed to live here with them now? What about Peter? After he bit me with his fangs and then left from the tent, it was as if my clouded mind had suddenly cleared and I quickly gathered my ripped shirt before hurrying back to my tent. I panicked so I just left.

Maybe Peter got angry with me and that's why he didn't seek me out. I didn't even see him after that. Maybe he was done playing with me.

 _Maybe I won't have to do those things with him again._

The moment this thought crossed my mind, my chest tightened and I clutched my shirt startled, causing the pair in front of me to give me worried looks.

Melissa ran a hand on my back a few times asking me if I was alright, that much I could understand. But I couldn't reply. I just shook my head and she gently pushed me down to a chair. As in cue, Scott disappeared for a moment, returning with a cup of water that he handed to Melissa and she brought it to my lips.

After a few sips I managed to calm down considerably and the pain faded away as quickly as it had come. I didn't have to be a genius to realise that my thoughts of Peter having abandoned me was what had triggered this pain. And if I had to guess, it had something to do with this strange bitemark that he gave me. If only I could ask someone about it!

The sun was about to set and, apparently, Scott had to leave so he kissed his mother on the cheek, gave me a friendly pat on the shoulder and said something I couldn't catch before he was on his way. After he had left, Melissa showed me where I'd sleep and she left for a while, coming back with two plates full of food, probably from the palace kitchens. I didn't think I was that hungry but he food was delicious so I ended up galping it down to the last bite, and I could tell I made Melissa quite happy for doing so.

After we both ate, she tucked me into bed like a child, and I tried to thank her for all she had done for me by squeezing her hand. She only smiled, and kissed my forehead tenderly before getting ready for bed herself and blowing out the candle.

Sleep didn't come easily as I was in a foreign place yet again, but I felt so exhausted that, when it finally came, it was deep, and dreamless.

††††

(Peter's POV)

 _This is ridiculous._

I scoffed annoyed as I strode down through the palace corridors. It had been just a day since my return, and the _mighty emperor_ already had me running errands for him yet again! And in a foreign nation to boot! I had thought I'd be stuck with having absolutely nothing to do, but before my heat even subsided, Gerard had me leaving for diplomatic missions.

Of course I had stayed in control. Being away from Stiles, the main trigger, had proven to be quite the advantage, unfortunately for Gerard's plans of hoping to have me ridiculed in a national level. And after a week in the southern province of Istria my heat had officially come to an end, without a single slipup I might add.

Now, I simply wished to take a bloody break. This previous week away had me thinking of how empty my life would be once I returned back here. I had grown so used to all the adrenalin and excitement the prospect of a good battle could give me that now anything besides that seemed pointless. I had let these three years shape me into someone else, and now I could not be satisfied with the idea of lying on my belly all day long, bowing to fat courtiers and letting time pass me by.

Not to mention that I couldn't get Stiles out of my head. I had given him to Melissa to look after, and honestly, I was curious at how that was going. Now that my heat was over I could be around the boy again without fear of losing control. But, the mark had been _calling_ to me. I could feel the wolf close beneath my skin, as if it waited for… for what exactly?

Stiles' scent was still neutral, and, had it not been for his eyes, the first time I saw his ears and tails I would think him to be a Beta, or a Gamma. But I knew that when his first heat came, his omega scent would call out to every male shifter in a mile radius; including me. I marked the boy without smelling his sweet mature scent, I don't even want to imagine what I'd do to him if he went into heat with my mark still upon his neck.

If I didn't claim Stiles before the mark vanished, the link between us would be gone completely. I just had to hold out until then. The farther I was from him though, the more violent the wolf got. I'd been in a state of almost constant arousal this past week, because I haven't seen Stiles at all.

 _Maybe if I just give in a little the wolf will calm down a bit._

Thinking thus, I took a detour before going to report to my father, and headed towards the palace kitchens, where I was sure to find Melissa at this time of the day. She would bring Stiles at my chambers so that I could scent-mark him a bit and calm down. As soon as the mark was gone and I fucked him to my heart's content, I would sell him off to a brothel somewhere far away and never have to think about him twice.

…I'd never been more wrong in my life.

††††

(Stiles' POV)

The days that followed my arrival in Azaran, a routine was established. I would wake up around dawn and help Melissa out with the chores around the little hut we lived in. She wouldn't let me go to the main palace with her, so I had to wait for her to come back later in the day.

In the meantime, around noon, Melissa's son, Scott, would come to the hut to keep me company. He had started to teach me how to read and write in Azari, and the words were coming back to me. I had never been taught anything before so I was surprised to find out I really enjoyed learning. I couldn't wait to be able to read books on my own, learn new things about, well, everything!

In a few days I was able to read and write with ease, and in a week, I had begun speaking. Scott and Melissa were both amazed at my progress, and they kept praising me. I'd never been praised before. Scott was as excitable as a puppy and I couldn't wait to be able to talk with him properly. He was probably the very first friend I had made in my whole life.

The only thing spoiling this new life of mine was the effect of Peter's mark upon my neck. Every night dreams of him plagued my conscience, forcing me awake with this immense urge to see his face. I… I missed him. No, this couldn't be real. I refused to believe that I missed the man who captured, molested and then simply threw me away as if I were nothing. I doubt he even kept his promise to me. Surely he must have done something horrible to Jackson. I don't even know how he is. The last time I saw him, he was so angry with me. I managed to betray his trust again. But… what he asked of me was too much! I couldn't just kill someone, even if that someone was Peter! I… I just know I wouldn't be able to bring myself to do it. These _feeling_ I had for Peter would stay my hand. Even for Jackson, this one thing I could not do.

So caught up I was in recalling my last talk with Jackson that night, that I jumped at the sound of the door opening when Melissa came back. This was strange, it was too soon for her to return. Normally she would greet cheerfully once she stepped inside, but today her face looked grim and she tightened her lips when she saw me.

"Hello, Melissa." I said in my broken Azari and that brought a faint smile to her lips, her shoulders relaxing a bit.

"Hello, Stiles."

"…Why you…come?" I tried to ask, not sure if I was using the correct words, but Melissa nodded in understanding.

"Prince Peter has returned. He has summoned you."

 _Peter had been gone? I can't understand what she's saying…_

I gave Melissa a puzzled look and she rephrased her sentence so that I could understand. She pointed at me, while saying Peter's name, and I knew what she meant.

I froze and Melissa quickly came to me, wrapping her arms around me and repeating the very first thing I remember her ever saying to me.

" _Don't be afraid_."

Was I that obvious? I pulled away gently and smiled at her brightly, not wanting to burden this kind woman with my issues. Peter was my master and if he wanted me to go to him then there wasn't much of a choice here, was it?

"Not afraid." I said convincingly and Melissa, after eyeing me carefully, nodded and led the way. I just hoped I had said the truth, because even I didn't know how I really felt.

††††

(Peter's POV)

 _I fucking hate him!_

That was all I could think as I made my way towards my chambers. That _bloody bastard_ had actually dared to have me whipped again. And for no good reason! This is bordering to lunacy, everyone saw it! He had me whipped like a common slave in front of his fuckin' courtesans while they giggled like the whores they are!

It's as if he is _trying_ to make me lose it. Oh… I see. That's what he is actually trying to do. Make me snap and attack him, then have me accused for treason and executed. Surely that _Argent wench_ was behind this. That's the only reason I can think of why Gerard has chosen now that I returned and actually proved myself useful to him to take me out of the picture.

But I am not going to fall into their trap. There's no way I will let myself fall so low. I may have never wanted the throne, but if they keep this up, I might actually start changing views on the matter.

The doors leading to my chambers came to view and I hurried inside, closing it behind me. I shed the bloodstained garments from my body and made to step towards my closet, when I registered a faint scent in the room, and remembered what I had ordered Melissa to do for me.

I cursed that decision as I really wanted to be alone right now, yet I instinctively drew in the scent which led towards the gardens. I figured Stiles had grown curious and bored while in here and decided to explore the place in my absence.

I somewhat wiped the blood from my skin with the ruined tunic I had just taken off and stayed shirtless, as the newly-healed skin on my back felt too raw to have fabric touching it yet. Focusing on Stiles' scent, I went out to the gardens searching with my eyes for the boy.

They were completely empty, as I never allowed any slaves to be in my quarters during the day, apart from Melissa. She could come and go as she wanted, do the chores and bring my food. The trees and other various flowers were watered automatically since that was the whole point of inventing hanging gardens, so I kept the place empty, just for my use. I liked being alone, something I had been deprived off during the three years of conquests. But now, I meant to take full advantage of it.

I walked among the ever-flourishing plants… and then I saw Stiles.

He sat at the edge of the pool with his feet inside the water, his body leaned back supported on his elbows. He gazed the leaves of the trees above him with a soft expression, more relaxed than I had ever seen him before.

My wolf ached at the proximity.

"Enjoying the view?" I heard myself asking, catching his attention. Apparently he hadn't heard me approach, judging by how quickly that expression was gone the moment he saw me and he tensed, his eyes on the ground.

"Sire." he said and bowed his head, but before he could stand up I pushed his shoulder back down and sat next to him.

"Do you like the gardens?" I pretended not to notice the flinch Stiles gave at the contact.

"They are beautiful." Stiles said and I think I saw a flicker of excitement in his eyes for a moment that he dared look at me. He seemed better. More… heathy I should say. Melissa was sure feeding him since he had seemed to have gained back some of the weight he had lost when he was out after he tried to kill himself.

I slightly felt better myself, so I decided to tease him, just for the fun of it. And maybe to see more of his expressions.

"Have you seen Laura?"

"Forgive me sire, who is Laura?"

"My little pet."

"You have a pet?!" Now I knew I had his interest.

"I do. She is almost as adorable as you." Where did that come from? I didn't mean to say that. I never said shit like that.

Stiles though, blushed all the way to his neck. He was so not used to taking compliments. Interesting.

"Do you want to see her?"

"Yes."

 _This is gonna be fun._

I whistled and a few moments later Laura walked out from where she undoubtedly hid while stalking Stiles, her eyes glued on the boy, studying him.

I saw Stiles turn pale, his ears immediately popping out and flatten on his head, his tails wagging around him quivering, and he instinctively came closer, hiding behind me.

I let out a chuckle.

"Don't be scared, Stiles. She won't hurt you."

I stretched my hand flashing my red eyes at Laura and she came closer, rubbing her head on my palm. Then, she moved on to my throat, scent-marking and licking me at the same time. This was new. She's never done that before. I rubbed her ears, an unintentional smile ghosting on my lips. Maybe I could get used to this.

"Laura, this is Stiles. Be good now." I ordered the panther and she trained her eyes on the boy, making to approach him.

I saw Stiles shiver at having Laura coming closer to him.

"Look at her. She wants to see your eyes."

Stiles raised his gaze and Laura fixed hers on him. For couple of minutes they just stared at each other and the panther was the first to break the eye contact. She approached Stiles and licked him hard on the face once and nuzzled his neck, drawing a giggle from the boy.

It was the first time I heard Stiles laugh. It was a beautiful sound. I wanted to hear more of it.

Stiles' eyes were glowing as he ran his hand over Laura's soft fur. The panther had taken a liking to him pretty fast, it was obvious. She must have sensed his link to me through the mark. Maybe she thought of him as pack. She could tell he was special.

This past week away from Stiles had caused me a lot of trouble. My thought always turned to him, and the need to have him close to me was overbearing. Now I could feel the wolf finally calming down. It felt like Stiles had become a presence I could not live without. As if I… wait what was I about to think? There's no way I-

"No wait! Wait! Ah~"

A splash of water made my eyes dart back to Stiles. I saw him inside the pool, completely drenched from the water and laughing. I turned to the panther who leisurely stared down at the boy with a smug expression.

"Seriously Laura? You had to push him in, didn't you?" I huffed amused and leaned over the edge of the shallow pool to grab Stiles. He didn't stop laughing even when I touched him, and I made to pull him out.

"Gods, you are a mess." I snorted and Stiles looked at me mirthfully, before pulling at my arm, surprising me and, before I knew it, I was in the pool too.

As if he had just realised what he'd done, Stile froze and started to shake. He started throwing apologies at me, completely misreading my look.

"I-I am sorry, I am so sorry, I don't know why I did this, please forgi-"

I grabbed his neck and pulled him into a kiss, shutting him up. I don't know why, but the way his wet clothes clung to his body had my wolf act up. Once realising what I was doing, I pulled away, and Stiles gave me a baffled look. I turned away annoyed with myself.

"Leave." _Before I do something I regret._

In an instant, Stiles' scent changed. Was he… _sad?_

Before I had the chance to say anything more, Stiles was on his feet and out the pool, leaving a trail of water behind him as he hurried to obey.

My wolf howled at distressing the mate. No! I refused to see him like that! There was nothing wrong with ordering my slave to leave. He was a _slave_ , nothing more.

The door slammed shut and I ran my fingers through my hair, frustrated at the thoughts that came to me unconsciously.

 _No, not a slave. He is so much more…_


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey guys, I apologise for the long time it took to update this fic, some things happened and I just couldn't focus enough to get it right. I kept changing it a lot until I was even remotely content with it to finally upload it... I hope you lot like how the story progresses. The chapter starts with Stiles' POV of what happened in the last chapter -don't get confused- and some new characte** **rs make their appearance towards the end. As always I hope you enjoy the story!**

 **WARNING: This story contains many triggers such as slash, non-con, dub-con, mentions of rape, graphic sexual/violence descriptions, knotting, m-preg, Omega-verse, slavery, underage etc.**

 **RATING: M**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own any Teen Wolf characters.**

 **Chapter 9**

(Stiles' POV)

Melissa and I made our way through the palace in silence, the frequent glances she sent my way when she thought I wasn't looking the only sign that she was worried for me. I didn't say anything about it, though. It made her look like a mother or something. I never had one to actually know how that felt, so I could only guess. It brought me…comfort.

The palace was amazing and so much different than the one I had grown up in. In Emmeria, the palace was made of alabaster, like everything else in the city. The gilded gates were all adorned with beautiful precious stones the names of which I couldn't hope to ever know, and torches on the walls lit the way and kept the cold at bay. Emmeria was so cold a place. A port city by the sea, rich from trade and full of scholars.

On the contrary, the palace of Azaran was made by a material that gave it the colour of the endless sea of sand that lay around it for miles and miles. The walls were very high, supported by stone pillars, giving the palace the form of a pyramid of continually receding levels. But the most amazing thing about it wasn't the height, or the material; it was the fact that even in a barren place such as the desert, the palace was filled with plants and all sorts of trees and flowers. I had expected it to be extremely hot inside, but, to my surprise, the flora reduced the temperature considerably.

We stopped in front of a large wooden door, and Melissa motioned for me to enter. My stomach clenched but I forced my body to move and pushed the door open. I had figured Melissa wasn't going to come in with me, so I waved at her with a smile before shutting the door.

I sighed when I realised there was no heartbeat coming from the huge room, and I turned around hesitantly, scanning my surroundings.

Peter's quarters were amazing, the decoration and colours so different and contrasting than what I'd expected. The bed was covered in gold and red duvets, that seemed really soft. I walked towards the bed and in an impulse, I sat on it, verifying the softness I had assumed. The bed was drenched in Peter's scent and I leaned into the pillows, breathing it in deeply. I had no idea why I felt the need to do that. The only thing I understood was this immense longing I got from not being able to smell him all the time. Crazy, I know, and surely the bitemark was what had been causing it. There is no way these feelings were mine. I mean… _how_ could they be?

I hurriedly moved from the bed and decided to take a look at the garden outside. The odours of the flowers were so strong and intense. I made my way through the trees and took in their smell, eager to get to know this new place. I loved being among greenery and this garden was making me very happy. Everything was so beautiful, I thought I would finally be able to relax and let go of this stress I felt.

As I wandered around, I reached a shallow pool filled with crystal water, so clear, that it captured the rays of the sun. I was so moved by the way the light reflected on the water, making it glimmer, that I quickly took my sandals off and sat on the edge, sinking my legs into the cool water up to the calf.

The feeling was divine. I leaned back against my elbows and breathed in the wonderful scents all around me, revelling in the soothing sound of the running water. I focused on that alone, tuning everything else out. Rarely did I allow myself to relax like this. This feeling of serenity at the moment was so not like me. Normally, I would move ceaselessly, unable to stay still, but right now, I wasn't moving a muscle. So peaceful-

"Enjoying the view?"

Eyes I didn't remember closing snapped open, realising I had completely dropped my guard like the idiot I was.

"Sire."

I glued my eyes on the ground and bowed my head hastily as I made to stand up, embarrassed that I had been caught so relaxed when I should have been patiently awaiting my master inside. I was almost on my feet when I felt Peter's heavy hand land on my shoulder pushing me back down. I flinched startled, but obeyed without a word.

"Do you like the gardens?" Peter asked casually and I calmed down slightly. At least he didn't look annoyed with my coming out here without permission.

"They are beautiful." I admitted, trying to contain my excitement. I didn't think that Peter would care to ask me anything, judging from the last time we met. I had thought he would be angry with the way I fled his tent that night. But… he seemed to have forgotten about that. He seemed… better? What was wrong with him to begin with?

Peter's voice pulled me back from my thoughts.

"Have you seen Laura?

"Forgive me sire, who is Laura?"

"My little pet."

Alright, that was something! If even someone like Peter kept a cute little pet, then he couldn't be so bad… right?

"You have a pet?!"

"I do. She is almost as adorable as you."

I froze at that. He usually called me names, making me feel useless. So why did he suddenly call me adorable? Was he messing with me? But… Peter has called my ears cute before, though never me… could it be that-

"Do you want to see her?" He smirked playfully and I was almost convinced that indeed he was messing around. My stomach gave an unpleasant kick.

I quickly pushed the disappointment away and nodded furiously, remembering the question I had been asked.

"Yes."

Peter whistled once and for a few moments nothing happened. And then I saw it…. It was so _not_ the cute little pet I expected…

This creature was huge, black and looked absolutely ferocious.

I felt myself shake, and I couldn't stop my ears and tails from popping out. I was scared shitless.

My first thought was to hide behind Peter, seeking protection. Why did I think that he'd protect me? Maybe he had planned for this to get back at me for that night in the tent! Maybe I was utterly wrong and he-

"Don't be scared, Stiles. She won't hurt you."

Instantly, I felt myself relax, trusting in Peter's words as he flashed red eyes at the beast. Then, she approached, rubbing her head on him before licking his neck thoroughly.

At that, Peter _smiled_. Not the cocky grin, or the sly smirk he always threw at me to cover up whatever he really felt. This was a genuine, honest smile. A smile that lightened up his eyes, even if by a little bit, and made my heart throb painfully in my chest. What was this? There's no way I-

"Laura, this is Stiles. Be good now."

I shivered as she came closer. I held my breath, slightly pulling away from the beast before me.

"Look at her. She wants to see your eyes."

So I didn't really have a choice then, did I. I slightly bit my lip in order to keep myself from making any sounds, and raised my gaze to Laura. She held it for a while and then, in a split second, she was on me.

The feeling of panic that caught me was gone the minute her rough tongue touched my cheek.

I giggled when she nuzzled my neck, and I ran my hand lightly on her fur. She didn't seem to mind. I scratched her behind the ears and she rewarded me with another hard lick.

I glanced at Peter to see his reaction to the affectionate assault of his pet, but he seemed lost in thought. He looked a bit tense all of a sudden, which was weird since just a minute ago he looked fine. And maybe happy. Yes, he definitely looked happy.

Distracted as I was by staring at Peter, I didn't notice that Laura, while nuzzling me, had pushed me right to the edge of the pool. When I turned my head chuckling, to avoid another lick right to my face, I felt myself lose my balance. I tried to grab at something, anything, but it seemed as if Laura thought this was a game, so she kept pushing me.

"No wait! Wait! Ah~"

A second later, I was in the water. I was drenched, head to toe, and once I had wiped my eyes enough to see, Laura was just sitting there, observing. If she could smirk like a human, I bet she would.

I couldn't keep myself from bursting into laughter with this predicament, and, unexpectedly, I heard Peter huffing amused with this too. Warmth overwhelmed my chest, as, for the first time since I met Peter, I felt something tag my chest pleasantly. Like…I don't know… a bond?

"Seriously Laura? You had to push him in, didn't you?" I heard him say, which seemed hilarious to me. A man chastising a beast like her, as if she was but a little cat. I guess that's how Peter saw her as anyway.

Then, Peter kneeled at the edge, the playful smirk never leaving his face.

"Gods, you are a mess." he chuckled and reached out his hand to help me out. When he grabbed my arm, I meant to do just that. Seriously! Until a crazy idea flashed in my mind and, for some reason, I found it thrilling. I grabbed him back, but, instead of standing up, I pulled Peter with all my strength, into the water.

When he splashed face-first in front of me, I wanted to double up at the shocked face he had pulled as he fell… but that feeling didn't last.

Instantly guilt and dread run through me, along with the realisation of what a horrible thing I had done to my own _master_. Frantic, I tried to apologise, but I didn't get to say much. Peter gave me a dark look as he pulled me violently towards him and _kissed_ me.

It was the last thing I would expect after what I had just done, but… it was as if I finally knew what was off this past week. All that longing, the loneliness, the insecurity I felt, was gone, the moment our lips touched.

He was so fierce and clang from me so strongly that it should have hurt, but instead, I relished in that pressure. This… _protection_. I wanted to touch him too. I _needed_ to… to run my fingers though his hair, trail his strong shoulders, caress his face, call his name, just once-

Suddenly, I was pushed away and I fell on my butt in the water, the euphoric feeling giving its place to shock and… disappointment.

"Leave."

Peter didn't even look at me as he said that. So _this_ was nothing. The bond I thought I felt was just my own wishful thinking.

 _Then, what the hell was this?!_

I didn't even register anything around me as I crossed the room drenched and utterly numb. Why was I that hurt? Why did Peter's rejection sting so much?

I slammed the door shut behind me and leaned against it, trying to fight the panic that overtook me.

I couldn't.

My breath sped up and I tried to stay in control. I couldn't shift here, so I pushed against the door and stumbled forward, walking as fast as the thin chain connecting the rings around my ankles allowed, and trying to remember how to get back to Melissa's place.

††††

(Derek's POV)

Peter had been gone for a week, and I had just been notified of his return. Father had taken quite the risk by sending him south to play the diplomat when he knew Peter's heat had yet to subside. I heard there had been no incident, much to my surprise knowing my brother's temperament, so I thought I'd pay him a visit, check up on him to see how he's adjusting to living peacefully again.

That wasn't the only reason for my visit, though. I mainly wanted another go at getting him to help me break off my engagement to Kate. If he put his mind to it, he would surely come up with something, no doubt about it. Peter is smart. He prefers to avoid showing it by playing the sarcastic and cynical brute, but many of the strategies he had come up with these past years were just _genius_. He could help me. _If_ I managed to convince him to do so. He had already flat out refused once, and I believe he meant it.

Maybe, I could promise him something as a reward. Or, if that didn't work, I could threaten him. He must have some weakness. Everyone does.

Mulling all kinds of possible plans to persuade Peter in my head, I turned around the corner that led to his quarters when something came rushing towards me.

The impact was strong, as apparently that _something_ was in a hurry, and we were both shaken by it. Purple eyes glanced up to me and immediately fell to the floor, as the boy tried to wipe his tears away.

"Who brought you into the premises, Omega?" I asked, yet silence met my question. This one was rude, for a slave.

"How dare you ignore me?! Don't you know who I am?"

Again, no reaction.

Looking at the boy more closely, I took notice of his drenched clothes and bare feet.

"Who is your owner? I shall have words with him for letting a whore loose inside the palace."

The Omega flinched at my tone and glanced at me frightened. Could it be that he couldn't understand me? Or, was he mute?

I grabbed his wrist annoyed.

"What's with you-"

I never finished the sentence, as suddenly a hand wrapped around my arm.

"Do refrain from touching my things, little brother."

 _I should've known._

"Peter. You can't keep an eye to your own whores now?"

Peter smirked at me but his eyes flickered red.

"Thankfully, I have you around to catch them for me."

That rubbed me the wrong way.

"He's an Omega, Peter."

"Ah, so observant. Yet, I see you lack other skills, say, comprehension, since your hand is _still_ on him."

Such possessiveness over a slave, and an Omega to boot. Strange. Wait…there's way no way… _this_ was Peter's weakness?!

The idea struck me and without thinking I squeezed my fingers around the Omega's wrist, drawing a pained whimper from him. I knew Omegas to be weaker than humans, but this was pathetic.

Yet, it was enough to cause Peter's claws to poke dangerously at my skin.

"Remove your hand, _Derek_."

I arched my brow at my brother's tone and, without a word, I let go of the Omega. Peter graced me with a final glare before grabbing the boy and leading him away.

 _Interesting._

††††

(Peter's POV)

I pulled Stiles along quite aggravated by my brother. He wasn't supposed to see Stiles. No one was. Well, frankly, I knew something like that was impossible, but still, I had hoped to keep him hidden for a while longer. Though, when my brother called Stiles a whore and grabbed him, I barely kept myself back from tearing Derek's throat out. He hurt Stiles on purpose. No one gets to hurt Stiles. No one but me.

Speaking of which, I belatedly realised I could smell fresh tears coming from the boy, who kept his head lowered as I dragged him through the corridor. I turned into a corner, knowing there's a storage room and ushered Stiles inside, following right after before shutting the door.

"What's wrong? Is your wrist injured?"

Stiles shook his head and turned his head away, lips tight.

"Why are you crying, then?" I pressed on, grabbing his chin and forcing him to meet my gaze. The look he shot me though was the exact same one he had the very first day we met; angry, and full of defiance.

"Why did you follow me? Does it amuse you to confuse me and then take everything back? Such twisted character… Kind or cruel just choose one already!"

Alright, I hadn't seen the outburst coming. Very unusual for Stiles to say what he thinks out loud, to stand up to me. The boy is so docile that I forget how different the real him is. This sure is a turn-on.

But, such thoughts can wait. The mark is affecting him too much, even more than me since he's an Omega, so he's got everything juggled up in his head.

"Listen kid, everything you feel right now, this confusion, is because of that mark on your neck. It's messing with you. I never meant to give it to you in the first place."

Stiles huffed bitterly at that.

"Of course, Master would know even my feelings better than me."

I smirked at that. An idea formed in my head that didn't sound half as bad before I actually said it.

"Then prove me wrong. In a few weeks' time, my bite will be gone from your neck. If you still feel the same as you do now, then I'll hear you out, how's that?"

The boy gave me an unreadable look and nodded slowly. Was he… blushing?

 _I want to bully him even more._

"It's been quite a while since you serviced me. You have neglected your duties to me."

A spark of surprise flashed through Stiles' eyes, lasting but a second before it was replaced by his usual mask of apathy.

"I haven't been summoned to perform them, sire."

Of course, he was right, I was the one that avoided being with him since that night, but his answer irked me.

"You should know when to present yourself. Have you stopped caring what becomes of that beloved master of yours?"

The boy gave me a look as if he knew I was baiting him. He seemed to catch on to a lot this one. He averted his eyes and bit his lip before answering.

"I still care for him… but not in the way I used to."

 _He doesn't mean it._ _This is because of the mark._

"Don't be mistaken, boy. I just take advantage of those muddled feelings of yours for my own amusement. You must keep in mind that I feel nothing for you. For me, you're nothing more than a slave."

Stiles' face was expressionless as he answered.

"…I will."

It vexed me, so I decided to be cruel for now. He was the one that wanted me to decide between the two anyway. I fisted Stiles' hair and pushed him downwards, until he was kneeling before me.

"If you get it, you know what to do."

Stiles said nothing, as he undid my pants. His bitter sent though, spoke volumes. This wasn't gonna be as fun as I had thought.

††††

(Melissa's POV)

I heard the door open and I eagerly turned around expecting Stiles, only to see Scott looking back at me with his smiling eyes. He came up to give me a kiss on the cheek and glanced around.

"Where's Stiles?"

"He was summoned, baby."

The smile dropped from his face and his warm brown eyes filled with worry.

"Is he gonna be fine?"

"I hope so. He's been gone for a while already." I tried to keep my tone neutral, but Scott heard the underlined concern in my voice.

"Why is Peter doing this to him? It's not right."

"Peter is the prince; he is free to do as he likes, whether that's right or wrong."

"I know that, and you know how much I look up to him! But some things he does are just…"

 _And you don't even know the half of it._

"My sweet, sweet Scotty…"

I hugged my boy tightly and brushed his hair. He was so kind, and despite everyone being prejudiced against Omegas, he befriended Stiles without a second thought. If only everyone was the same.

"Listen baby, you know what Peter has done for us, for _you_. You wouldn't even be alive if it hadn't been for him."

"…I know that, mum."

"I will ever be in his debt. But, even if it wasn't for that, what do you think we could do for Stiles? We are only slaves."

"You can try and speak to Peter about it! If it's you, maybe-"

"I cannot take such liberties with him, Scott. He is… the _prince_. I don't know how he would react."

"Then I'll do it!"

"No you won't. You may feel familiar with him but you don't really _know_ him. If he felt offended, he could have you lashed!"

"Peter would never-"

The creek of the door had both our heads turning towards it quickly enough to see Stiles coming in… followed by none other than Peter himself.

"It sure is crowded in here." Peter stated pleasantly as he gave us a knowing look. He had heard us.

"Prince Peter!" Scott exclaimed and turned to the object of his admiration. If he was a shifter, my son would have grown a tail by now.

"Melissa," he began, ignoring Scott completely, "a word."

Scott looked like a kicked puppy as I followed Peter outside. Hopefully that would remind him of his place and stop thinking himself special, and poking his nose into our master's affairs.

Once we were outside and Peter was sure Scott wasn't picking from the window, he turned to me with a smile, but his look was dead serious.

"So, it would seem you two are… _dissatisfied_ with how I treat my slaves."

"Apologies, my prince. That is not what we meant."

"Then what _did_ you mean?"

"We only wanted to say that… Stiles is only a child, and an Omega at that. We just worry about the way he could be… treated."

Peter contemplated my words before he spoke again.

"From tomorrow, a human scholar will be sent here daily to teach Stiles our tongue properly and keep him occupied. I forbid you to let him out during the day. Some nights, I've decided he is to sleep in my chambers. Do you understand, Melissa?"

"Yes, your Highness."

"Your boy may keep him company, but do tell him to mind his own business, or his training shall be doubled."

"Of course, I will make sure to tell him."

Peter's gaze fell on the small rosebush that grew in the flower bed next to our hut, and he trailed a bud with his thumb, suddenly deep in thought.

"I don't mistreat him, Melissa, if that's what worries you. Well, I admit I push him sometimes. When I was lost in my heat I accidentally gave him the first bite, so now I have no choice but to act on the instincts the mark has awakened, until it's gone. Or I _will_ lose my mind."

He said the last part quietly, as if he spoke to himself rather than me. I could tell Peter cared, from the way he sounded. Three years, his words didn't have even a drop of emotion. Even if it's just uncertainty, at least now he sounds more human than beast.

††††

(Scott's POV)

When I met Stiles for the first time, he gave me the feeling of a very frightened and nervous kid. I mean, he flinched at the slightest contact and found the floor quite interesting to look at. Well, I might have been the same if I had been dragged from my home to another country and didn't even know the language. That's a common story for many slaves though.

But hey, Stiles was smart. Like, _very_ smart. He picked up Azari like it was natural for him to speak it. His accent was great, and he could remember the new words my mum and I said to him after he'd heard them just once. One week and he could write and read already! Of course, the fact that I was an amazing teacher also helped.

And, I think he's started to feel more comfortable around us. He seemed more relaxed, smiled, helped out mum. I was glad she had company now. When I left for the training she was all alone and kept worrying about me. In the three years I didn't see her, she didn't change one bit. At least now she has a distraction.

But… the thing about Stiles is that he is Peter's spoil. Well, normally every warrior claims something after a battle; treasure, slaves, anything for which he can brag about among his comrades. But, for Peter, everyone knows whatever or whoever he picks out, they are tossed away not long after… broken… and useless.

Now, don't misunderstand me, I admire Peter with all my heart. The debt I owe him is one I could never repay. He is cruel and vindictive, that's for sure, but, once, he had a kinder side. That's why I don't want him to do to Stiles what he does to his other slaves. He is not a nameless face I couldn't care less about. Stiles is my _friend_. Living with him, getting to know him, has made me dread what might become of him. He doesn't deserve to… he doesn't.

When Stiles and Peter came inside the hut, I could tell Stiles had cried. Peter had done something bad to him. His hair was ruffled and his clothes wet. Even his sandals were missing. Just, _what_ did he make him do? Wait, on second thought, I don't wanna know.

"Hey," I started, unsure if I should ask about it, "you alright?"

Stiles waived his hand dismissively.

"Yes." he replied with a lopsided smile, hiding himself behind it. He did that a lot.

"You up for a game?" I offered, hoping to take Stiles' mind off of whatever had happened.

"…Game?" he tilted his head confused and I realised he didn't know what I meant. Well, there was only one way to explain, right?

I moved to the table and grabbed the wooden board I had brought with me, set it onto the floor and arranged the pieces, all the while having Stiles following my moves with his eyes like a hawk, eager to get his hands on it but holding back. Once I was done, I took a piece away and threw it at him, snorting as Stiles caught it with ease.

"This is called Ur. It's a good game, you'll like it." I said before setting out to explain to my friend how Ur was played, using mostly hand gestures and easy words. Soon, Stiles was absorbed by it and I knew this was a good idea after all. He deserved to relax a little.

By the time I had to leave, Stiles had managed to beat me three times in a row, making me regret ever teaching him the game in the first place. I mean come on, I played for years and the kid hadn't even closed a day, this was downright humiliating! Not to mention my own mother cheered for Stiles instead of her son! Crazy, right?!

††††

I left mum and Stiles to get back to the barracks around dusk. As they walked me out the door they were both still laughing at me, until I ended up laughing too. I promised I'd beat Stiles tomorrow and ventured outside, chin up and all.

The air had already started to cool as I made my way through the side path circling around the front of the palace, heading towards the smaller gate that would take me to the barracks, when two palanquins carried by slaves passed through the main gates, escorted by Azari warriors.

It was usual that nobles would come seeking audience from the emperor, bringing gifts along to offer, and daughters to show off in hopes of striking a marriage deal with the princes. Kate Argent ended up becoming the intended of prince Derek, offering her House's power and support to the emperor. I don't know much about politics, but still I know enough to expect noble women to start flocking into the palace again for a chance at getting picked by Peter, now that he's back.

The curtains of the front palanquin were open half-way, and I got a glimpse of light reddish-blond hair, before they were pulled shut. However, the rear one's were suddenly pulled open completely, and a girl with dark brown hair and pale skin said something to the slaves carrying her and they stopped, putting her down gently.

She jumped out of her palanquin and rushed my way, stopping in front of a bush with some kind of blue flowers on it. She touched her fingertips on the petals, her face clear for me now to see.

She was _beautiful_. I felt a pain in my chest as I looked at the girl examining the flowers, her eyes bright and her smile sweet and just… perfect. I didn't know the exact moment, but soon I realised I was grinning like an idiot, as my heart raced in my chest.

 _I wanna talk to her._

Even though I could feel my legs itching to take me to the girl, I didn't dare move from my spot on the side walk. I wasn't an actual slave, but I couldn't hope to get close to her without scaring her, or being punished for it. She was a noble, and I was nothing.

"Allison! Quit drooling on the flowers like a commoner, the emperor expects us."

The other girl had spoken without even deigning to show her face, but at least now I knew the lovely brunette's name; _Allison_.

" _Allison"_ , I quietly tried the word on my tongue for the first time, and it rolled just right.

I didn't expect the girl's eyes to turn my way suddenly, as if she had heard me. My breath caught as her mild surprise was replaced by a warm smile, that reached her eyes. I grinned back at her, looking like an idiot for sure, but I couldn't hold back.

I watched until she was back in her palanquin and the slaves walked away taking her inside. After that, I don't remember how I got back to the barracks, or if anyone had talked to me at all. All I could think was her.

Lying on the bed that night I just couldn't stop grinning. She was the most beautiful girl in the world; her eyes, her nose, her smile, her hair, everything about her was… I don't know what word fits best!

And her name… even her name had something sweet about it.

Ugh, I just couldn't get enough of saying it.

"Alisson…Alisson…Ali-"

"SCOTT FOR GODS' SAKE I'VE GOT PATROL IN TWO BLOODY HOURS, SHUT THE HELL UP SO I CAN GET SOME SHUT-EYE!"

My bunkmate threw his sandal at me, and I realised I still hadn't told him about her! I jumped up, throwing him back his sandal to wake him up completely.

"Isaac, dude! You won't believe this! Today I met this girl and-"

"Oh gods… there he goes…" I faintly heard him grumbling as he turned towards me. The best friend I could get. He would always listen to me first. Then he's kick my ass. Yeah, he definitely would kick my ass for not letting him sleep tonight.


	10. Chapter 10

**Hello everybody! I'm sorry for disappearing on you like that! I swear I had so much going on mentally, that time just passed me by. My parents got a divorce (thank god) and my depression has been getting a lot better so I could finally sit down and write a chapter for you lot. I hope you enjoy reading, and I have included a small action scene that brings Peter and Stiles closer, even if only a little.**

 **As always, thanks for reading my story.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **WARNING:This story contains many triggers such as slash, non-con, dub-con, mentions of rape, graphic sexual/violence descriptions, knotting, m-preg, Omega-verse, slavery, underage etc.**

 **RATING: M**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own any Teen Wolf characters.**

 **Chapter 10**

(Derek's POV)

I had been summoned to the throne room, along with all the courtiers, as today a potential marriage partner for Peter was to officially introduce herself to the court.

I never expected that father would actually care to find a wife for Peter, or that he was looking for one at all. Maybe, now that Peter's back, father wants to reconcile with him; that's probably why he sent him to Istria with such an important diplomatic task. And Peter had done well, despite his heat.

But, the incident with that Omega last night… it put me to thoughts. What if it hinders father's attempts to find a wife for Peter? What if-

"Why have you summoned me father? Have I somehow displeased you yet _again_?"

Peter made his way through the room haughtily, observing everyone suspiciously, his eyes landing on me briefly before he deigned to look at our father.

However, instead of answering, Father turned to his right and gave a silent order to the guard standing there. The man hurried to obey and left the room, passing by Peter who gave him a wary glance. After that, Father finally addressed my brother.

"Come here, Peter. Stand by your brother and be civil for once as our guests are on their way."

"What guests?" Peter asked confused but under Gerard's severe glare he ultimately took his place next to me.

"Please welcome Lydia of House Martin and Allison of House Argent." a guard suddenly announced and two women passed through the gate, making their way to Gerard. After they came close enough they stopped and bowed respectfully to their Emperor. As everyone should.

"Welcome to my palace, Lydia and Allison. I trust my servants took good care of you last night when you arrived."

The girl with strawberry-blonde hair was the first to speak.

"Yes, your Majesty, we are thankful for your hospitality. With your permission, I would like to introduce myself as a potential candidate for marriage to Prince Peter."

"Sly old bastard." I heard Peter whispering displeased as he took a step forward and bowed to Lydia Martin as the proper etiquette required.

" _I_ am Peter." my brother declared and then turned to our father shooting him a deadly glare, before continuing "But I am not looking for a wife."

††††

(Peter's POV)

I felt utterly stupid as I stood there with that Lydia girl in my face. I didn't know Gerard planned to wed me but I sure as hell wouldn't sit down and take it. No one chooses for me.

" _I_ am Peter. But I am not looking for a wife."

Some surprised gaps were what followed my statement, with Lydia turning pink to her ears and looking embarrassed for a moment before she huffed haughtily.

"What is the meaning of this, your Majesty?" she said stiffly glancing at her friend momentarily.

"My son merely jests, that is all. Are you not, Peter?"

 _He takes me for a fool!_

"…I am not, and you know it _._ "

"Insolent bastard-"Gerard started but Lydia Martin in a demanding voice cut off whatever he was preparing to say to me.

"Clearly there has been a misunderstanding. After this insult, I am willing to rethink my House's answer to your Highness's invitation here."

And after declaring that, the oh-so-important Martin girl left with Kate Argent's little sister in her tail.

"OUT! EVERYONE GET OUT!" roared Father enraged and everyone hurried to obey, leaving us two alone in the grand throne room.

 _Gods, this is gonna be maddening…_

††††

(Scott's POV)

 _So tired… I just wanna sleep…_

After talking Isaac's ears off about Alisson last night, I just couldn't get her out of my mind, so I spent the whole night thinking about her. This morning in the training though, I realised it wasn't a wise think to do. I couldn't concentrate and ended up on the ground more times than ever. I'll be sporting multiple bruises by tonight, I'm sure of it.

In training however, word got around about Peter's new matchmaking session and all kinds of weird rumours about the potential bride had started to circulate. Some said she was a bastard herself from a rich House, others that she was an Omega meant for breeding and so on. I personally believe that the truth is somewhere in the middle, like she must be from a rich family since she came on a palanquin, but I don't think she is an Omega, she had sounded too patronising while talking to Alisson and Omegas are never like that. No one allows them to be.

Well, whatever the truth, there is a good point to this whole thing; if Peter ends up liking her he could finally leave Stiles alone! I bet mum would be so relieved if that happened. Me too of course. There was no way I could ever accept what Peter is doing to Stiles, the kid looks so innocent and timid I can't imagine what it must be like for him. Know what? I'm actually gonna tell him about it! At least now that Peter is looking for a wife, Stiles won't have to worry for much longer. I bet he'll be thrilled!

At that thought, I quickened my steps to get to mum's hut. Little did I know that the reaction I'd get would be far from what I'd expected.

††††

(Melissa's POV)

Stiles had been silent since the time I'd come back. He hadn't touched any of the food I'd brought back for him at noon and he wasn't trying to talk with me like usual. He just lied there on his mattress, facing the wall. Was he homesick? I didn't even know how to approach him, he'd never been so closed off.

I was about to say something but banging on the door cut me off. I rushed to open, only to come face to face with what looked like a really pissed off Peter.

"Your High-"

"Where is Stiles?" Peter cut me off, his voice demanding.

"Right here, sire. He looks somewhat ill though so today maybe is not-" I tried to say, but Peter wasn't listening to me anyway. He passed through the door pushing me aside and went where Stiles had sat up. Then he said something to him in the boy's tongue and waited. Stiles didn't look to have heard him though. He kept his eyes on the floor and wouldn't even look at Peter.

 _Not now Stiles!_

Peter said something again but Stiles didn't look like he was listening. That only served to irritate Peter more.

He turned to me, eyes angry as he grabbed Stiles by the nape and forced him up.

"Don't wait up for him." He only said darkly before dragging Stiles out with him and away towards the palace.

 _Please Stiles don't make him angrier!_ I could only think terrified at what Peter would do this time…

††††

(Stiles' POV)

I follow quietly letting Peter drag me to his chambers, my poker face ever in place. Not that I'd have an expression even if I wanted to. I felt nothing. _I_ was nothing. If I could change my form at will I would do it and just run away. Away from everything. Away from _him_.

He opened the door and ushered me in, trapping me between his body and the door as he pushed it shut.

"Look at me."

At the sound of his voice my heart beat faster. So what. He wouldn't care.

I finally met Peter's hard gaze tiredly and uninterested at what he wanted this time. I'd do it sure, because I had to. And after he was done he'd be free to run off to his proper wife-to-be. Yes, I knew all about that one. Scott had filled me in. He thought I'd be happy. He doesn't know that I… that I…

"'What the fuck is wrong with you?"

I didn't answer.

Peter grabbed my neck and pushed me against the door harder. All the while I hadn't taken my eyes off him. This man was the cause of all my troubles. He'd made me feel so many things because he just wanted to, he'd taken everything and yet he wanted more. He would take no more.

When I felt his claws poke dangerously at my throat, I finally spoke. But no in Emmerian. This time, I spoke in Azari.

"Shah… ne."

††††

(Peter's POV)

"Kill… me."

I froze. It was the first time I had heard Stiles speak Azari. I wanted that for him a lot. I wanted to hear his voice as he spoke in my tongue. I'd even dug up a book with Azari legends for him to read sometime.

But I sure as hell never expected these words to be the first he'd say to me. Out of reflex, I loosened my grip.

"What?" I could only ask. I felt my wolf howl inside. Stiles looked away.

"I…am useless. You have…woman…"

How the hell did he know about Lydia already? Who said I'd make her my woman anyway?

I grabbed the boy's chin and forced his eyes back on me. He'd got it all wrong.

"I have no woman." I said using easy words that Stiles understood. But he just looked at me, no expression on his face. Then suddenly, a tear escaped the corner of his eye.

" _Kill… me…"_ he said again.

And I snapped.

I crashed my lips on his, biting my way in. I wanted to hurt him for wanting to die. For wanting _me_ to kill him. I wanted him to feel the inexplicable pain I felt.

Stiles wouldn't respond like all the other times though. He just let me do as I wanted. And that hurt more.

I grabbed the boy and pushed him up against the door, forcing his legs around my waist and my mouth against his throat. The skin there was wet. The tears kept coming harder, but his face was like stone.

 _Fuck Stiles!_

I made my way through the chamber and tossed Stiles on the bed before falling on top of him, trapping him under my weight. His beautiful eyes were unfocused, his face blank, but he silently cried.

My wolf was coming out. I ripped his shirt with my claws and touched his skin roughly. I kept touching him, trying to get a reaction out of him, but nothing came.

Desperate, with a mouth full of fangs by now, I brought my hand on Stiles' cheek and caressed him. I nuzzled his neck, pathetic whimpers escaping my throat.

What was this? Why was I feeling like this? Something was so wrong… and I knew what…

Drowned in my revelation, I jumped as Stile's hand came up to rest on my hair, the other on my shoulder. My face buried in his neck I didn't notice that the tears had stopped.

Suddenly, I felt so tired. So very tired. Tired of war, of my father's schemes, of decisions being taken for me. All I wanted right now… was Stiles.

 _Mate_ … the wolf supplied and I didn't correct him. Just like that, in Stiles' arms, I fell asleep.

††††

I woke up to the soft sound of pages turning. Cracking an eyes open I saw Stiles' back facing me as he sat on the carpet next to the bed. I made to say something but the memories from my pathetic show last night rushed back to me. I quickly shut my eyes again unable to face Stiles.

 _He must think me pathetic, desperate… 'the fuck's wrong with me…?_

Stiles' voice startled me back into facing the facts.

"Are you… ok now?

He was staring me with those beautiful eyes concerned about my wellbeing when I almost ripped his throat out last night! Was he an idiot? Or…

 _Does he actually care… for me?_

"Um…yeah I'm fine, Sti-" a burning in my loins cut me off and a divine smell invaded my nostrils all of a sudden. Stiles let out a pained whine as he fell to his front, grabbing his waist. It was happening again. Stiles was reacting to the mark. And it wasn't good.

My wolf howled inside me as the scent grew stronger. Stiles turned to me, a look of fear on his face. I realised I had growled.

 _This face doesn't suit him._ Was all I could think about as I moved to a sit-up position, my feet touching the floor. Stiles was a ball next to the bed, the pain on his waist keeping him there. I wanted to do something to help him, so I grabbed his arm and picked him up, manoeuvring him to sit on my lap facing me, his legs on each side of mine. He was so close, his eyes drooped and tears forming around the corners.

 _Shit…_ I thought and pulled him even closer so that our chests touched. All the while Stiles hadn't tried to fight me, only whimpers escaping him and that smell… the things it did to me… I wanted to pin Stiles down and lick him everywhere, spread his legs and fuck him senseless, bite him…

Trying my hardest I managed to get my thoughts back on track. I brought my hands to Stiles' lower waist and started rubbing small circles there, trying to get the pressure I knew he felt to tone down a bit. I had read about it in a book sometime, when I had an interest about the classes of shifters. I remember I had been amazed at how fragile and sensitive the Omegas supposedly were. Even a touch from their mate could make them docile and pliable, but the mate was also affected by the Omega's emotions. The relationship with an Omega was supposed to be a very intimate thing, and that is why the other classes hated the Omegas so much. Because they could get affected by them. So, selling them as whores did the job.

A gasp from Stiles brought my attention back to him. His body went lax and he dropped his head on my shoulder, his nails clawing my skin lightly. Apparently, whatever I did worked. He should be fine now-

Something wet spread on my lap and the smell intensified. Stiles slowly started to grind against me, while sniffing my throat and cupping the other side of my neck with his hand. Gods, he was making it so hard for me to hold back… my hands moved from his waist, lower, cupping his perk ass and squeezing hard, before I took over his unsteady rhythm and began pushing him to and away from me, our cocks touching through fabric.

 _Not enough…_ the wolf demanded and I brought my hands between us, taking our shafts out and fisting both of them. I slowly began to pump my fist up and down, setting a steady rhythm before returning my free hand to Stiles' butt. But I didn't stop there… I put my hand through the boy's pants and gods he let out the lewdest moan right next to my ear. I let my finger find his hole, which oozed that splendid liquid and circled a few times the puckered entrance. We were both breathing hard by now, both so close… my logic hazed by pleasure, I grazed the head of Stiles' shaft getting him to writhe with desire. But I wanted him to feel even more before he came. So, I did what I wanted to do most; I let my finger slip through the boy's wet hole drawing a broken cry from him as he came in my fist calling out my name.

I milked his seed thoroughly, the aftershocks shaking Stiles' body and then, using his, I quickly pumped out my own orgasm, howling to the ceiling.

Once I could focus my thoughts again, I let my body fall back to the mattress, pulling Stiles down with me, still trying to catch his breath. I have no idea how long I basked in his scent that morning, but after what had just happened, things weren't going to be the same between us.

††††

(Stiles' POV)

From the moment we left his chambers, Peter hadn't taken his hand away from my nape. He kept it there as he led me through the corridors, all the way to Melissa's hut.

What we had done was… amazing. I had felt close to Peter for the first time. My fox was basking at his scent as he… did that thing for us both. And when he touched my ass, I seriously thought I was going crazy! But… more than that… this time, he was tender and careful with me… like I was something _precious_ … no way right, it must have been my wishful thinking.

But… the kiss he gave me after we caught our breaths was the most tender and unhurried he had ever deigned to give me. No biting, no rush, only sweetness. I think it was the first real kiss Peter actually gave me. And I was going to treasure the memory, because I doubt there'll ever be a second time to that. Peter wasn't well, anyone could see it. So, when he's back to his usual self nothing like this will ever happen. I'll be once again just the whore of the prince.

 _A prince to-be-married._ My brain supplied helpfully and bitterness overcame me. But before I made to enter Melissa's little hut, Peter, as if sensing my change of mood pulled me back and forced me to face him. I looked back at him, my face blank.

"…You called my name as you came."

 _How can he say such things with a straight face, gods with this man!_

But he was right. I had called him Peter. I was too far gone and all I wanted was to know how his name felt like on my lips.

"Forgive-" I started but he cut me off, grabbing my nape again and bringing himself down to my face.

"Stop apologising. You're annoying."

Thanks for the compliment. Back to normal I see. Told you this wasn't gonna last.

Out of reflex I was about to say 'I'm sorry', but caught myself in the last moment. But Peter saw that. He let out a sigh and ran his fingers through his hair, looking away.

"I didn't mind you know. From now on, when we're alone, call me by my name." and just like that he turned tail and left, leaving me dumbfounded outside Melissa's hut. Once I realised what he had said though, I felt my heart burst.

Apparently, things weren't going to be the same between us now… right?


End file.
